


Look What You've Done

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, M/M, Minor Character Death, Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-20
Updated: 2005-11-10
Packaged: 2018-12-27 02:43:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Tells about  the heartbreaking nights before two weddings.  One chickened out, one passed away, and the one who  took the brunt of it all.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: I was listening to the song, _**Look what you've done**_ by _**Jet**_ and fell in love with it. The song is included in the OST for the movie A Lot like Love, too. This is kindda sad, though. But this can turn around depending on my mood...hehehe. Please tell me if I should continue.   


* * *

__**Take my photo off the wall  
If it just won't sing for you  
'Cause all that's left has gone away  
And there's nothing there for you to prove**

 

When they told me that he is finally doing it with another man, I nearly lost my faith. Not that I hardly have any, for anyone. But at least, to _him_ \-- I got huge, say, the size of the whole State of Washington. I don’t blame him, though. He deserved to be **happy**. And fuck me if even now, I still have the littlest flicker of hope in my heart that he will find it - -with me.

 

__**Oh, look what you've done  
You've made a fool of everyone  
Oh well, it seems likes such fun  
Until you lose what you had won**

 

Exactly a year ago, it was supposed to be me. And him. Everything was set already. The little shit is a drama princess, so need we expect anything less grand and spectacular? The dreadfully lesbianic venue. The exceptionally long list of entourage, fuck yeah, there is an entourage. He insisted that everyone must have a participation. The _song_. Okay, he refers to it as our theme song. Fucker! I still could not believe I agreed to stay up with him the whole night looking for that one maudlin song to be played as we traipse the road _less_ traveled. He said no ceremony is ever complete without "The Song".

 

And finally, the _ring_. or better yet. Our rings.

 

I asked him to pick it up himself that day because I was finishing something at work. He said he can’t, as he was on his way to the salon to have his hair and nails done for the big day. Of course, he was teasing. Well, I thought, the little twat could just not get enough of drama and romance; he’s throwing in some suspense to the picture, as well.

 

When the sales lady handed me the blue velvet box, I just about froze right there and then. I was not exaggerating, but I felt… _different._ My palms become sweaty. And my arm stiffened ‘cause I swear, that the teeny weeny box I was holding onto suddenly weighed like … tons of bricks and marbles. 

 

__**Give me back my point of view  
'Cause I just can't think for you  
I can hardly hear you say  
What should I do, well you choose**

 

“ _I can’t fucking believe you are quitting just like that, Brian. We … you were just fine this morning. Tell me, did I do something wrong? It's the place, isn't it? Well, we can prob'ly ask Em to help us find something suitable...to your taste. We’ll cut back the whole entourage thing if it makes you queasy. Oh, and the song, you know how I love it– but, we can dispose of it, too_ ". His eyes were glassy and his voice was the tone of desperation.

 

His words cut like a hundred knives. Incising every sinew, every fucking tissue in my body. I wanted to yell, ‘ _it’s not all of the things you said, Justin. It’s those fucking rings at the coffee table mocking me, taunting me!_ ’ Instead, I found myself uttering “ _I just can’t do it. I’m … I’m just not sure I want to do this with you. I - -_ ” 

 

“ _Fuck you, Brian! Fuck you and everything you have to say._ ” Tears were now spilling from his raging eyes. “ _After five years, you still have the **nerve** to tell me you're not sure about doing this. Tomorrow's the wedding day and you're fucking getting cold feet. How dare you?"_ His face was beet red from anger. 

He was waiting for me to say something else. Something more with substance. I tried to open my mouth to articulate some words, but, nothing came out.

" _You listen to me you selfish prick and you listen really well. The minute I walk out of the door, I’m never…ever coming back._ ” 

He took one last look at me. Not with vehemence this time, but, with questioning eyes. I mustered every ounce of strength that’s left of me to avoid his gaze. I honestly didn’t want him to see that I was as deeply hurt for turning him away. 

 

__**Oh, look what you've done  
You've made a fool of everyone  
Oh well, it seems likes such fun  
Until you lose what you had won**

 

Believe it or not, and you better fuckin' believe it, I still think I made the right decision that night. And, the rest of the family still think I'm the biggest fucking idiot alive. But how could I be wrong? Look at him now, he’s got a flourishing career ahead of him. And soon, the right man for his loving heart. Someone who will look and see him with both eyes wide open. The gentlest person to listen to his laughs and madness with both ears. The kindest person to nurse his bruises from his past cruel affair. Someone not ... me.

 

****_Take my photo off the wall_  
If it just won't sing for you  
'Cause all that's left has gone away  
And there's nothing there for you to prove 

 

I started composing the letter for him six months ago. Every night, at exactly the same time, I would open my mail, go to the draft box and add something off my head. Tonight, I finally was able to finish it and I'm debating whether I should send it to him or not. I know this would not mean anything to him right now. Plus, who has the time to check e-mails the night before their wedding. He’s probably too busy making sure everything is perfect to his liking. He can be really anal at times. Christ, what am I thinking? I’m sure once he sees my name in the mail, he’s not even going to think twice in clicking the delete button. So, what the fuck – here goes _nothing_ …..

 

_**Message sent** _

 

_Justin,_

_For so long, I peeked at your life with a single opened eye. I turned a single ear to hear you. I looked and saw mistakes, which I now realize are mere illusions of mine._

_For a little more than five years, I said but poorly spoke half-truths to hide my weaknesses. I cheated your precious time with my baseless doubts. I wasted good opportunities by pushing you away with my selfish thoughts. You reached out but I pushed you away. And at times when I am barely sober, you listen to my trivialities regarding our non-conventional non-relationship with your lips pushed back in pain._

_I bear so many frustrations inside that manifest into ire. For so long, I dwelled on your mistakes that were mere misapprehensions._

_I don't know if you will ever, but I pray that you would forgive me. I have never believed in saying sorry all my life. But, if there is one thing I know now, It is that, I owe you an **apology**. Forgive me for not loving you the way you ought to be loved. I apologize for all the tears you cried for I have treated you like the enemy. Pardon me for the times I blamed you for the many shitty things that happened when, in fact, most of these occurred when you weren't even there. _

_I have been pretty much messed up inside. Even I find myself difficult to understand. Pathetic, isn't it?_

_My world is an anachronism, existing other than its proper time. That's what I've been told many times, before. Perhaps it is true. That is why most of the time you cannot find the logic in the things I say or do. I've always admired your guts for sticking it out with me even though I know you are pushed to your limit most of the time._

_I know that you have moved on and the most I can do is to make wings for you to go and love again. This is the RIGHT time. I am no longer worthy of your hopes and dreams. And never will be. Although it hurts so much to admit, I'd rather let you go than you to stay on blindly. **It is truly difficult to love me**. Shit, I never thought I'd live to see the day when I can finally own up this bitter truth to myself._

_I wish I could go back in time and collect you in my arms for all the times I made you cry. But it is too late, already. I wish I could finally open up to you and say all the words of comfort inside me. But I ran out of time. And I am scared to move further. You are far better without me._

_Maybe someday I could do all things possible for you to consider my apologies And I hope I could repay the patience you endured. Though I know it will never be sufficient, I hope it would not deepen the aperture I made in your heart._

_I bought a ticket for you to **ride** with me, and I apologize for not finishing the ride with you, My Princess. _

_Wishing you all the happiness on your wedding day._

_Later,  
Brian_

_**A fool of everyone  
A fool of everyone** _


	2. Strike Two

  
Author's notes: Thank you for the good reviews. Sorry I have no Beta, so bear with some mistakes.

* * *

* * *

“Justin, honey! I’m home.” Matthew called out from the door.

Justin emerged from the bathroom drying his hair, his lower body wrapped in a white towel. “Hi there handsome.” He said teasingly, then beamed his megawatt smile to his fiancé.

Matthew’s face lit up a few hundred notches at the sight of the most beautiful man in front of him. He took off his coat and let it drop to the floor. He bent down and awkwardly unlaced his _Chuck Taylors_. Justin chuckled at the sight of him. “Christ Justin, stop giggling like a school girl. You are sooo paying me a high price for making me wear these… _cute_ … shoes.” 

“Oh is that so, Mr. Wade? I thought those pair of canvass looked sexy on you.”

Justin loved his fiancé’s affable attitude. Matt is quite a looker, himself. He stands a little over six feet with deep green eyes and light brown hair. But, it’s his humor and good nature ways that has really won Justin’s affection.

The two met one Friday evening at the local supermarket. Justin had a long day and was too tired to go to the Liberty diner to grab some dinner. He settled on doing a quick trip to the store to buy some dairy and bread. 

 

_“Miss, do you still have any of those raisin bagels?” Justin inquired from the lady holding an inventory pad._

_“I don’t see anything from where I stand. Maybe we’re out already. Get somethin’ else. ” The lady said rudely while chewing her gum._

_Justin pressed his lips together to restrain himself from strangling the lady. He was dead tired from his work at the gallery and the last thing he needed was a boorish sales lady taking her ire from working the full shift - - on **him**._

_“Well, what can I say? I want my bread with a **hole**. And – don’t tell me to grab a donut, ‘cause I fancy bigger holes. Okay?” Justin snapped, made an exaggerated pout and walked away._

_Upon seeing the long queue at the cashier, he declared it was not his night and decided to just ditched shopping altogether. He made the move to return the carton of fresh milk to the stack._

_“Uh, I was thinking if I can offer you my hole? They don’t have raisins, though. ” A voice came from behind._

_“Excuse me? " Justin evidently dumbfounded, quickly turned around and faced yet another spawn from hell._

_“I mean this.” The gorgeous man held out a pack of bagel. The man must be in his early thirties. He was wearing a dark gray suit. And has the most perfect set of teeth. “I could not help but overhear you whining a while ago. And, I haven’t done my good deed for the day. So how ‘bout you accept the offer already?"_

_Justin scoffed. “This store is full of crazy people tonight.” He turned around and shook his head in disbelief. “And by the way,” he exclaimed while walking away, “I was not whining."_

_“Hey, I’m sorry,” the man called out and followed Justin. “I was just nervous and was trying to make light of the situation. I didn’t mean to be tacky you know. I saw you with the ….bread lady at the back. And I thought, you needed some …. **cheer upping**. Is there such a word?” He asked, obviously embarrassed._

_Justin studied the man in front of him. Despite his manly stance, he could see an allusion of some boyishness. And he liked it. “Apologies accepted,” He relaxed his shoulders and extended his right hand. “I’m Justin. Justin Taylor.”_

_This elicited a huge grin from the taller man. “Wade. Matthew Wade.” He said in a thick accent, apparently mimicking James Bond’s tone._

 

“C’mere, gorgeous,” Matthew grabbed Justin and leaned in to give him a deep kiss. “Ready for the big day tomorrow, Mr. Justin Taylor Wade?” 

“Couldn’t be … _ready-ier_. Is there such a word?” Justin mocked then wrapped his arms around Matt.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this, Jus. You made me the happiest fag in Pittsburgh. I love you most.” Matthew whispered to Justin, voice almost cracking.

Justin felt a tug in his heart. He knows how Matthew adored and loved him. There is no doubt that the man will do just about anything for him. Sometimes, he wonders how he could have gotten so lucky to have him. He burrowed his face to Matthew’s chest and bit his lip. If only he could give this man half of the love he had…has…for Brian. _If only_.

 

_Ring. Ring._

 

“I’ll get it. Get dressed, honey. I don’t want you with pneumonia tomorrow…coughing your ‘ **I do** ’ to me.” Matthew joked then hurriedly went to answer the phone.

Justin smirked at his fiancé. “Smart ass! By the way, can you check my mail for me? I e-mailed mom this morning confirming if she can make it tomorrow night.” 

“Ok, will do,” He heard Matthew called out then went back to his conversation at the phone. “Okay, we’re going to bed early. Yes mother. Uhuh. Noooo, I’m not gonna wear him out tonight . Got it. All check. Bye, Deb. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Justin could not help but chortle as he overheard the whole conversation. He knew it was Debbie on the other line giving Matthew her last instructions. 

Matthew proceeded to the computer to check Justin’s e-mail. It’s not really his thing to go on peruse at his lover’s personal mails unless Justin asked him to. Matthew clicked on the check mail button and saw that there were _two_ new mails in the inbox. 

 

****_From: JenTaylor@aol.com_  
To: Sunshine_JT@yahoo.com  
Subject: Confirmation  
Date: Tue, 21 June 2005 19:48:15 

**_Hi sweety. Of course I am coming. I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world. I am taking the first flight to Pittsburgh tomorrow. Molly said she will just ride with me. I miss you, Justin. Wish you find true happiness, this time._ **

**_Love you.  
Mom_**

 

Matthew could not wipe the big smile off his face. Although Justin and Jennifer rarely had the chance to get together since she moved to Chicago for her new job assignment, they remained in constant communication through e-mails and phone calls. He admired the genuineness in the mother and son’s relationship. Matthew was about to log off when he realized that there is still one mail left. He looked at the sender’s name and suddenly felt intrigued by it as it was the first time he came across it. There was no subject in the mail so his interest was all the more piqued.

 

~~o~~

 

“Okay, I‘m leaving, Brian. I promised Ben I’ll be home by nine. Fuck, I’m late already! Are you sure you don’t want to come tomorrow?” Michael asked one last time.

Brian smirked. “You have no idea how much I wanted to, _cum_ , Mikey.”

“Asshole! That’s not what I meant.” Michael hit him in the arm.

“Okay, you better go and meet your hubby and leave me out of your hetero activities.” Brian led the shorter man to the door. “Bye Mikey,” he said as he pulled open the heavy loft door.

Both men were stunned to see Matthew at the doorstep. Brian felt his throat run dry at the sight of the man he referred to as his, **nemesis**. He had seen this man few too many times with his sunshine. At the Liberty diner. At Woodys. Even one time at fucking Babylon. But, this is the first time, he has ever seen him up close. ‘Well, the fucker looks … _okay_ ,’ Brian thought.

“Matt. What a surprise!” Michael exclaimed.

“I never thought it’s breeders night,” Brian remarked sarcastically. “To whom do I owe this pleasure of having your presence in my humble abode?” He added with his trademark tongue-in-cheek.

“Hi Michael. I didn’t realize you’d be here. Well, Justin is not with me. I came alone.” Matthew said calmly.

Michael forced a smile. He was standing in between Brian and Matthew and could sense the growing tension in both men. He considered staying on to arbitrate for the two opposing figures but he thought it best to stay out of their business. 

“Uh, I think I should leave you two boys. Don’t play it too… rough, okay?” Michael leaned in to kiss Brian on the cheek then turned to Matt to give him a hug.

Brian and Matthew came face to face. Neither man said a word. The silence was deafening. The world had suddenly stood still and both men waited. Waited for the braver one to break the stillness.

Matthew felt it’s got to be him. “Can you at least invite me in so we could have a _decent_ conversation?"

Brian raised his brow, turned his back and made his way to the bar. “Come on in.”

Matthew stepped into the lion’s den and restlessly looked around. 

“Don’t worry, you're safe. The booby trap’s all been **detonated**.” Brian snapped. “Let’s cut the bull and fucking tell me why you are here.”

Matthew cleared his throat and looked Brian in the eyes. “I really don't know what prompted me to come here. And before you offer me one of your acerbic remarks,” he held out one hand, “I need you to let me finish, first.”

Brian nodded.

“First off, Justin doesn’t know I am here. I came here because I’ve read your letter. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know it was from you.” Matthew saw Brian’s jaw tensed. For a while, he thought the other man would lunge and squeeze the life out of him.

“I know he still _loves_ you.” Matthew cringed at the words he said. “He tries so hard not to show it. But I know. My heart breaks each time I see him cry at night. I have heard him call out your name in his sleep. There would be times when he avoids going to bed because I know the 'nightmares' come and haunt him. Christ Brian, I even contemplated several times in calling you, to ask for ways... to calm him. He does not know it, but a lot of times, I’ve caught him looking at your photos. And I just let him... 'cause I know **you** soothe him.” 

Brian walked toward the bar and poured himself a drink. He motioned the glass to Matthew, wordlessly asking if he want one for himself. The other man nodded his head to indicate his concurrence. Brian handed Matthew his drink courteously. 

“Why are you telling me all these things? Aren’t you supposed to be yelling invectives at me for causing your little sunshine…pain and misery? Go on, tell me how disgusting you think I am for shutting the lights out of Justin’s fuckin’ hetero fantasy world. _Crucify me_ …. yeah, crucify me for not having the motherfucking balls to tell him all the things he needed to hear.” Brian spit out the words like a bitter pill.

Matthew made one long swig to his drink and placed the glass in the table. “You know Brian, I see no need in hurling those words in your face. Why? Because I fucking swear you live with _remorse…and bitterness … and unimaginable loneliness_ every minute of your pitiful life when Justin finally walked out of your door. Just couldn’t figure out why you did _it._ Couldn't fathom how you could have survived this long carrying that ...heavy baggage in your heart.”

Brian’s whole body stiffened. He felt the other man’s words cut his very soul. The pronouncements echoed in his head resoundingly. He felt the world spun backwards showing him snippets of what transpired the night when Justin left him. 

Matthew made no more attempt to talk. He felt he had more than said everything. He made his way to the door and shut it behind him.

 

~~o~~

Justin was awakened by the ringing of the phone. He didn’t realize he had dozed off. He turned around to find out he was alone in bed. He grabbed the alarm clock at the bedside table and saw the time:

_2:28 a.m._

“Matt,” he called as he stifled another yawn. “Matthew. Can you get the phone, please?” Justin sensing that he was alone in the house, picked himself up from the bed. He wandered to the living room and noticed his laptop still turned on. '"Matthew Anthony Wade. Where the fuck are you?" He hated using that language with his fiancé. But at this ungodly hour, and with the phone’s continuous ring blaring around the house – he can’t be all that ‘ _sweet and nice_ ’.

Justin picked up the receiver and blurted out, “Who the fuck is this calling at two thirty in the morning?”

“Hello. Wade residence?” asked the gruff voice on the other line. 

Justin felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Yes, can I help you?” He managed to ask.

“This is Officer John Bergman. May I know who I am speaking with and how are you related to Mr. Wade?”

Justin suddenly felt cold and felt the hair from his nape, rise up. “This is Justin Taylor. I am his …. _fian_ … _partner_. What’s wrong officer?” 

“Mr. Taylor, I need for you to collect yourself together and come down to the precinct as soon as you can. I’m afraid I have terrible news for you. Your partner, Mr. Matthew Wade was found by my men in a dark alley, badly beaten up and … soaking up in his own blood.”

Justin felt his whole body numbed as the words made its way to his senses. ‘... _soaking up in his own blood’_ , “No no no no no…this is not a good joke. Tell me you’re fuckin’ kidding!"


	3. Two Failed Weddings and a Funeral

  
Author's notes: Sorry took me so long to update. This story is supposed to be a stand alone. But since you're all clamoring for more, I had to squeeze my brain out for the succeeding chapters. ;o) Sorry, still no Beta, errors are all mine. Enjoy!

* * *

* * *

_Why do I think so much?_  
Finally I've had enough of what could be,   
looking beyond what I can see,   
I've had enough of sleepless night,   
I've had enough of meaningless fights,   
I don't want to bear the pain of everyone else,   
I can't even handle myself,   
or, so some people say.   
But I guess people say untrue things, all of these lies,  
spinning out of control,   
eventually form into a big black hole. 

~~o~~

 

" _Sorry I can’t take your call. Leave a message after the tone._ ” **Beep**. 

“ _Justin, sweetheart, I am so worried about you. Please call me…at least let me know how you’re doing, okay? Love you._ ” **Beep**.

 

**_Justin - POV_ **

That would be the seventh from my mom for today. I got four from Linds. Five from Ben and Michael. Three each from Ted and Emmett. And two from Mel. But, the runaway winner would still be Debbie – she left _eleven_. Maybe if my fucking answering machine could grow a mouth, it would have been yelling ‘ _fuck off’_ , by now.

 

The pill to start mending my life is acrimonious.

 

“ _… we have tried everything to resuscitate him, but, the injuries were just too severe. I’m afraid, he didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor.”_

_“Great. That’s just great, Dr. Martin. Now… if you will just excuse me, I’d like to go home now so I can succumb to oblivion._ ”

 

I am _tired_. I am not trying to play it down or be fuckin’ modest. I merely don’t see the need anymore to elaborate how I am feeling. Sure I can throw in more overt adjectives akin to exhausted…depleted…shattered. But, I believe when you reached yet another low point in your life; you’d simply cease to mind the difference. Or simply care at all. In a hurting person’s eyes, everything will look blue. And grey would be the color, if he has a heart.

 

The ‘ **L** ’ word has probably decided to take permanent residence in my forehead. Ha fucking ha. My whole body is convulsing. It wanted to scream, ‘ ** _fuck you world, watch me bleed!_** ’ God, you don’t know a shit how I got by into coming this close to redeeming myself. I was just starting my new lease on life. Shit, I practically hadn’t had the time to chart my life back yet. 

 

When Brian dropped the _proverbial_ bomb on me a year ago, I broke into fuckin’ million pieces. I bet some of you may have seen a fragment of my spirit hanging loosely at your neighbor’s clothesline. Or maybe, a speck of my soul settled like collected dust by your windowsill. I was damaged goods. Way beyond repair. Everyday of my pathetic life, I tried to pull together bits and pieces of myself. I never succeeded completely in becoming the man I used to be, though. And even when Matthew came and stayed on, I knew I was still lacking some parts here and there. I managed to carry on basic functions like breathe, eat, walk, draw, fuck and sleep - If it’s any consolation.

 

My eyes were bloodshot from weeping. After the funeral, I decided to forego Deb’s invitation at her place. C’mon, how can they expect me to sit down and have some tea and biscuit when all I really wanted to do is to back Carl into a corner, grab his fuckin’ _45_ and shoot myself. But I knew that was remotely possible given that my screwed up family went as far as keeping me off from all pointed and sharp materials within a radius of fifty miles. Left with a meager choice, I donned my black shirt and mourned. And that’s what I have been doing for five days already. In my heart and in my mind, that was not enough yet. Matthew, above all, was a very dear friend. A loyal partner. The perfect _soundboard_. I loved him. And I say he deserved a good number of days to be remembered and esteemed. I looked around the house we shared and saw flecks and traces of him. 

 

“ _Matt, I told you, I fucking hate it! It’s hideous!”_

_“Language, Mr. Taylor. C’mon don’t act so sissy, now. You know I love them. And since you refused to give into painting a piece for me, I just thought I’d buy one.”_

_“Okay… okay, fine! Just please hang it up somewhere else…in the den, maybe. There’s a perfect spot for that…that...piece of art. You know what? There’s really something creepy about that horse.”_

_“Oh, but it looked wonderful right here in the bedroom. And honey, I told you it’s not just a horse. It’s a unicorn._ ”

 

I forced a smile and choked the imaginary lump in my throat. I picked myself up from the bed that has begun to reek of squalid blend of alcohol, cigarette smoke and sweat. My feet felt like they were bound by those Chinese shoes, I had to drag them. I eventually made it to the kitchen and saw that it was in complete disarray. I made a mental note to call the cleaning lady for her next schedule. I opened the refrigerator and scanned its contents. Bottled water, some saltines, green apples – Matt loved them, and he wants them chilled, a plate of stale chicken salad, and a leftover of pesto spaghetti from our last trip to my favorite Italian restaurant, _Trafalgar_. I haven’t had nourishment for the last few days and still felt okay until a deep grumbling sound from my stomach proved otherwise. I settled for the saltines and moved onto the living room. The house was mutedly lighted I almost stumbled on a pair of shoes that was carelessly lying around. Fuckin’ _Chucks_.

 

I was about to slump onto the couch when I heard a heavy knocking at the door. Fuck, please let it not be Deb. I just can’t deal with her right now. I love her, yes. But when I am in my ‘ _wallow mode_ ’, the last person I need to be with me is her. I turned around and carefully tiptoed my way back to the bedroom. 

And then I hear it. 

The voice that I swear could triple the beat of my heart, at any given day and time. 

 

“Justin, I know you’re there. Would you just open the door? My knuckles are beginning to sore already.”

 

Brian Fucking Kinney. _Sore knuckles_? Fuck him. Did he really think I would even care? I smirked and shook my head at the incredulity of the man. 

 

“If you don’t open this fucking door, I would be left with no recourse but to use my _Rage_ powers and blow this one up.”

 

Yeah, right. I’m fucking calling you on it. Can you believe the audacity of this man? He strings me along and shit on me for five years, kicked my ass on the night before our wedding and now, here he is, at my fucking turf, menacing me with his smart repartee.

 

“Go away, Brian. Go find somebody else to harass. I’m not your today’s special.” I shot back.

 

“I’m not here to wage war.” His voice was unbelievably mellow tonight. “I just want to know… _if_ \- -“

 

“What?” I interjected. “You want to know what? If the silly little faggot is still breathing? You want to check if I finally lost it and decide on popping all the _Prozacs_ I keep in my purse? What?? What the fuck do you want from me, Brian?! I'm all out, and there is nothing more to take!”

 

I swear the fucking door separating me and him would have shattered into tiny pieces from the degree of livid and resentment in my words. But I don’t give a flying fuck! I so wanted to _hurt_ him. I wanted him to feel at least a bit of the pain he’s caused me. God, not even once have I thought I could hate him like this.

 

**_Brian - POV_ **

 

I leaned my head and let it rest against the cool solid door. Anyone could read defeat in the slump of my shoulders. Fuck, what have I done to him? In another situation, this would have been an added laurel on my shoulder for proving yet again that I could magically turn something or someone around with my _Midas touch_. But Justin is _not_ another project. And he is definitely not just a nameless someone. 

 

My knees gave out and I crashed to the wooden floor. “I’m sorry,” I said weakly. I drew my legs toward my chest and wrapped my weary arms around them. ‘ _I’m sorry, sunshine. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sonny boy. ‘Didn’t mean to_ ,’ I recited the words over and over like a fuckin’ ode. Willing the words to miraculously make its way to the heart of the younger man at the other side of the threshold.

 

I must’ve stayed in that fetal position for fuckin’ long, I can’t remember. The only give-away is the growing ache in my back . I must’ve dozed off…or did some fuckin _astral travel_. I looked around and noticed that dusk has already settled. The darkness and silence enveloping the neighborhood isn’t forbidding, but rather calming. 

 

The cool wind brushed against my face and sent a biting chill to my body. I instinctively nestled myself into the warmth of my coat when I noticed another layer of sheath thrown in around me. I relaxed my body and further indulged in the feeling of warmthness it offered. I knew it was Justin’s the moment I smelled it. _God, I miss this scent_. 

 

And then my eye caught _something_. A glimpse of hope, maybe. Just _maybe_. There, in one of the baluster of the terrace, a yellow _post it note_ conspicuously stuck out. I extended my left arm and reached out for it. I idly stared at the note as I could hardly read what was written on it. His handwriting had become crude, I thought. 

_Brian,_

_I swear I could have let you freeze to death._  
But I don’t know if my conscience could live with it.   
There’s hot coffee inside.   
Knock three times...  
if you’re up for another round of talk. 

_Justin_

 

Finally I realized, it was my own tears that blurred my vision.


	4. The Conversation

  
Author's notes: Sorry took me so long to update. I was in a silly and happy mood the past few days and it's really difficult to write an angsty storyline in that condition. Sorry no BETA, jeez, I don't even know what it is even if it smacked me in the face... okay, errors are all mine. - Kaye :o)

* * *

_**Brian - POV** _

 

The door swung open and I see him. Donned in a black over-sized shirt and gray sweatpants, hair disheveled. He smiled lazily then said, “I said three times. You never really listen, do you?” 

 

Forgive me but my mind wasn’t acting in full-throttle mode yet. The words came out in jargon, like a riddle that needed some deep thought to be solved. I was left standing half in, half out of the vestibule. 

 

Then it hit me…the _post-it-note_ ….the knock-three-times ludicrous rule. 

 

“Well, you know, we can do it all over, _again_.” I called out apologetically. He is nowhere in sight already. But I hear some rustling from within, I figured that was him. He’s supposed to be alone, I think. 

 

“Never mind. Come on in, I’m in the kitchen,” came a faint reply.

 

I stepped tentatively inside the dimly lit house. Passing through the living room, I noticed a soft glow emanating from a lone white candle lighted on the coffee table. A photo frame is beside it. 

 

“In here, Brian. And stop snooping around.”

 

“I wasn’t snooping,” I said defensively. “I was just a little concerned with the candle burning back there. You don’t plan on burning the house, do you?” I said mildly as I stepped into the kitchen. Justin’s demeanor remained sullen, an indication that my humor is not appreciated. 

 

“Here’s your coffee. Sorry, I ran out of cream,” he placed the mug in front of me and gestured vaguely for me to take a chair. 

 

I took my coat off and dutifully sat at the wooden stool opposite him. “The coffee smells good,” I said, attempting to start a civilized conversation. I took a long sip from my mug and craned my head to look outside through the kitchen window, half-praying for reinforcement. The silence is making me uncomfortable.

 

“Matt’s a _Catholic_.”

 

“Huh?” I was startled by his sudden speech. 

 

“Catholics believe that they are supposed to burn candles for _nine_ consecutive days for the soul of their departed ones,” he paused, not taking his eyes from his cup of coffee. “It’s supposed to give light to the souls as they traverse the road going to their final destination.” He stated as a matter-of-factly.

 

“Ooh, that’s creepy,” Okay that was a lame reaction. But that’s all I have managed to say.

 

I surveyed the room and found everything in topsy-turvy. The kitchen was a battle ground. Pots and pans piled on top of another, stacks of empty cups and plates strewn everywhere; on top of the fridge, by the windowsill, _inside_ an open microwave oven.

 

“Why are you here, Brian?” Justin asked as he fixed his eyes on me.

 

Bewildered, I offered him a weak smile. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting that question to come up. I just presumed it’d surface a little later, deep in the conversation.

 

“Everyone said you shut yourself out. That you weren’t taking any calls.” I studied his face carefully and I knew he was waiting for an elaborate explanation to my sudden stopping by. 

 

“Look, I wanted to apologize for not showing up at the service. I felt my _presence_ would just distract everyone … I mean, I just might ruin everything, for you.” 

 

“Oh, God, I can’t believe that ego. You think everything is all about you, huh?” 

 

“Justin, please… stop. I’m trying here, okay. Really, I am. Look, I’m sorry about you and…. _Him_. I really am.” 

 

“Mm, now that is creepier,” he replied with indifference. “When did you start adding the word sorry in your fucked up vocabulary? But, hey, thanks. I didn’t mind you missing out the memorial service, though. And I’m sure Matt didn’t give a shit, too. It’s not like you’re friends,” he smirked.

 

I tried to compose myself and remain calm and collected. I know it’s going to be a long night if I decide to carry on with the conversation.

 

Silence again. Justin stood up and moved to refill his cup. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me, Brian. I have been through hell and back. Nothing fazed me anymore. Guess, I just have to suck up whatever fuckin’ fate has prepared for me.” He declared with ashen calm.

 

“Hey, don’t say that. Things will get better, _kid_.” I countered.

 

“Who are you? _Nostradamus_? Fuck, you don’t know anything about being miserable. Other than when you had fuckin’ _Syphilis_ and you were restrained to have sex for ….what…. _48_ hours?”

 

In one dispassionate room of my mind, I just wish Justin would stop steeling himself from me. But I don’t have the luxury of asking that from him. I knew he was trying to mask his true emotions. God, he doesn’t have to fucking prove anything from me anymore. He is the bravest, strongest, most resolute person I have ever known. 

 

“Why are you _really_ here, Brian?” He repeated his question, only this time, he’d articulated the words sharply, making it known that he is not taking any lame excuses from me.

 

“I told you Justin, I wanted to apologize for not coming to –“

 

“Christ, Brian, can you not be honest with me? I mean, just be black and white, no more going around the whole color wheel. Do you think you can do that, huh?” He spat the words venomously. “You just don't knock at my door and tell me you're all sorry for Matthew. God, you didn’t even feel sorry about what happened between us."

 

"You don't know that, Justin. I am - -"

 

"The hell I do! I know the stuff you are made of, Brian. But, it's all water under the bridge now. You moved on. I moved on, until the fuckin bastards snuff the life out of my fian-- ” he waved his hand to dismiss the rest of his words.

 

“Justin, if you would just let me finish and not rudely cut me off, we might actually come up with a _real_ conversation in here. Christ, you are such…a brat!”

 

“Fuck you! What right have you got to walk into my apartment, drink my fucking coffee, attempt to have a _nice_ chitchat with me and call me a brat?”

 

“Whoa..whoa...back down a bit. Justin, would you listen to me? I am sorry you’re going through an awful lot of shit right now and you _don’t_ deserve any of this. I may not exactly understand where all these anger is coming from, but believe me, I wish there is something I can do to make things easier for you. I...uh...I know I’m _not_ the best person to have this conversation with right now,” I paused, took a deep breath, and decided to fire away. “But, I really care for you and I want to _help_ you." 

 

“Help me? You are the most aggravating person I have ever known. Sometimes I want to smack you so I can put some good sense in that pretty face of yours.” He started pacing the room petulantly. “I'm not some fucking charity case, okay? Do you actually believe you can _fix_ me, huh, Brian? What, tell me, you're trying to play the hero part, again? Well, sorry to disappoint you, but there is **NO** saving me this time.” 

 

He walked toward me and held out an accusatory finger, “And _if_ you really care at all, as you are claiming, you would have the _**decency**_ of _not_ showing your thick face at my doorstep and act as a poster boy for _ex-lover-turned-confidant of the year_!” 

 

Justin was seething, bordering hysterical. My heart bled not at the angry words he hurled at me, but more for the reason that I hated that I could not do anything to help him. Because he wouldn’t let me. God, beneath those beautiful eyes, I can see so much. I see contempt building up. I see hope and dreams crumbling down. I see fervor and desire diminishing. I see Justin… _alone_.

 

I grabbed his lithe body and collect him in my arms. He tried pushing me off and yanking out of my clutch. But I tightened my grip on him.

 

“Justin, fuck, let me just hold you….please.” I told him softly, more like a plead. 

 

“No..no...please, Brian…don’t… please. Fuck, no! Let go off me... please. _Don’t_. Don’t do this to me!” He was beseeching, begging not to be touched. A careless slap brought a burning sensation in my face. Justin was taken aback when he realized what he just did and froze in my embrace.

 

“Shhh…it's alright, I'm _not_ gonna hurt you, Justin. C’mon hold still, Sonny boy. Just a little longer. Shhh…..,” I held him firmly and recited the words to him softly. Hoping against hope that the words will find its way to his core and soothe him. 

 

Justin sort of hyperventilated at the feeling of closeness we have. He breathe convulsively for a while and I become alarmed. After a while, his body slackened and loosened up. That’s when I knew I was able to break down his wall. He buried his face in my neck and started to cry. A very lonely cry. Nothing else to describe it.

 

“I can’t cry, Brian. I can’t…anymore. I’m fuckin’ tired of crying…can’t … _no more_ ,” he kept on saying as he bawled more and more. He leaned the side of his head in my chest and continued to whimper. “You… you shouldn’t have let me… walk away. I would have stayed…if you just asked me to. _I would_.”

 

He spoke the words intensely, and though there was unmistakeable reproach in them, they sounded more to me with unspeakable tenderness. If I hadn’t been holding him in a tight embrace, I would have plummeted right then and there. God, this man doesn’t realize how much strength he can confer on me. He is my lifeline, for the most part. Nearly everyone would think that Justin is the weakly, lame-assed, parasitical faggot that sucks me empty. Who would believe if I told them that, Brian Fucking Kinney, the uber stud of Liberty Avenue, is the one drawing strength and energy from a twink like him. That, compared to Justin, I’m way out of his league. Yeah, it’s a shame. 

 

We stand here, in the middle of the utter disorder of his kitchen, clutching one another. Tears spilling both in our weary eyes. Yet most surprising, I didn’t actually feel so ridiculous. It’s real. No pretense. And there's always a certain giddy freedom that went with baring my soul and losing my face to Justin. 

 

“This world really _hates_ a happy ending story,” he said as he swiped his tear-stricken face. 

 

“I could _change_ that, you know,” I whispered tenderly in his ears. 

 

Justin craned his head upwardly so that he can see my face and gave me a puzzled look. Then he smiled faintly and shook his head, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. The _last_ time I agreed to that offer, I got sucked for five years in your twisted world then got kicked out in the ass before my wedding day.”

 

Ouch. He did hit a nerve there. And I’m not going to debunk that. I kissed his head lightly and looked intently at his eyes, “Well at least let me try, again. I’m not saying…. you say _yes_ \- right here, right now. Just try to squeeze it in your ‘ _things to consider’_ list. How about that?” I asked with a tone of sincerity.

 

He pursed his lips together, slowly squirmed out of my arms which are still enclosed around him and backed three little steps away from me. I flinched from the sudden loss of contact.

 

“I don’t know, Brian…maybe. We’ll see. _No guarantees_ , Okay?" He said with a forlorn expression in his face. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I wanna take a shower… _alone_. I stink already,” he pointedly looked at the back door to signify that our conversation has come to its end.

 

_It isn't a crime to want, a little space to breathe_  
You will be fine, the sun again will shine  
On you, whatever you do 

 

I touched his face one last time, then mussed his hair. I walked on to the wooden stool and reached for my coat. “Thanks for the coffee. Later, Justin.”

 

_I won't ever stand in your way_  
Wherever your heart may lead you  
I will love you the same  
And I will be your comfort everyday  
Do you hear the words I say? 

 

“Yeah, later. _Maybe_ ,” he muttered, then turned his back to retreat to his bedroom.

 

_Take your sweet, sweet time_  
I will be here if you change your mind  
Take your sweet, sweet time  
I will be here for you baby, anytime 

* * *

Take your sweet sweet time - Jesse McCartney


	5. The Suspect

  
Author's notes: Here's another chapter. Enjoy it as much as i did while writing it. Thanks for all the kind reviews. I didn't realize this story will reach this far. ;o) kaye   


* * *

Justin awoke to the barrage of loud noise pounding inside his head. He pulled himself up and sat at the edge of the bed. Instantly, he was arrested by the bright ray of light of the morning sun. He cursed inwardly, censuring himself for constantly failing to shut the window blinds at night. Slowly he got up and treaded his way to the bathroom. The trip took longer than usual as he practically walked baby steps, careful not to bump or trip on to the host of mess around the room. “Fucking _hangover_ ,” he muttered under his breath. He pulled open the medicine cabinet, reached out for the pain reliever bottle, dug out two white-colored pills, and popped them devoid of water.

 

It’s been two weeks since he declared himself a hermit and locked himself in the safety of his apartment. He hadn’t returned anyone’s phone call up till now, with the exemption of one lovely _Latina_ she knows. “Fuck, Ruth!” He reached for the cordless phone and started dialing a familiar number.

 

“Hi. It’s Justin.”

 

“Oh, hi Justin! Thank God, you’re up. Listen, Mr. Mitchell’s been harassing me all day yesterday. He’s asking me all these sort of dumb questions. I can’t stand that dirty old man. Aarghh…you’re the only one who can handle him,” said the frantic lady at the other side of the line.

 

“Listen, uh…I know I promised I’d report back to the gallery today. But…um…I don’t think I can make it. I’ve got a headache. Terrible headache.”

 

“Justin, you can’t go on calling me at exactly the same time each morning to give me the same spiel. Listen, the headaches will never go away, not until you stop guzzling all the booze you got there. You hear me?”

 

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Ruth. I just don’t think I’m ready to go back to work.”

 

“Of course you are ready. You are just prolonging your agony, hun. Hey, listen, I don’t want to sound like a cold-hearted bitch, but this has gotta stop, okay? Justin…as your friend, I care for you and I really wish you’d get over this slump,” she said sincerely. “But on the other hand, as your boss… I also care for the gallery, and I wish you’d get your cute butt in here already so that we can get the business out of slump,” she admonished him.

 

This elicited a smile from Justin. A genuine and effortless smile. He felt better, instantly. “Wow, you are a _mean_ employer, Ruth Mendez, shame on you,“ he chided.

 

“I know, that’s why you love me. You’re always drawn to the mean people. C’mon Justin, another day without you and I’m gonna lose my freaking mind. I need you here, everything’s a mess – save me!”

 

“Okay, okay…jeez,” he said smiling even more, “Let me just find my red cape and blue tights. Your superhero is on his way,” Justin chortled then hung up.

 

Ruth Mendez owns _The Metro Gallery_ , one of the prestigious art galleries in Pittsburgh. She is in her late forties, with long deep black locks and a plump bosom for her petite frame. She was never married but boasts of having had a myriad of lovers, men and women alike. It was Lindsay that encouraged Justin to apply as Assistant Manager at the gallery and was even the one who set up the appointment for him. Justin kept on telling Lindsay that he would not be accepted as he deemed he was too young and inexperienced to take on such responsibility. But Lindsay would not listen to any of his nonsensical excuses, so Justin, left with no choice, showed up at the designated time of interview. Dressed casually in a light blue shirt and khaki trousers, portfolio in tow, and a killer smile – he went through the interview, got the job, and the rest is history. A couple of months later, Justin asked Ruth what made her decide to choose him instead of the dozens of men and women clad in sleek dark suits with a three-paged curriculum vitae. The affable lady nonchalantly replied that she thought Justin has a nice smile, a pretty butt and a passion for art. And that’s all it takes to convince people to buy even the hideous piece of painting and revere it just the same like a _Gogh_ or a _Picasso_.

 

Justin arrived at The Metro a little past nine in the morning and began the arduous task of attending to his backlogs. Heaps of documents to peruse and sort, tons of phone calls to return and a bunch of clients that hastily scurried to the gallery to see him upon learning of his _resurrection_. It was almost eight in the evening when fatigue took its toll and he felt light headed. It suddenly dawned on him that he had not taken anything for the day except for the coffee and half-eaten bagel that Ruth has placed on his desk at lunch. 

 

“Hey hun, time to go home. You wanna ride?” Ruth asked as she entered Justin’s small office.

 

“Yeah, I’m actually getting ready,” he replied as he shoved the rest of his stuff in his bag. “I’m starving, would you like to go to Trafalgar to grab something to eat?”

 

“Are you asking me out, Mr. Taylor?” Ruth asked in a sultry voice

 

“Well, let’s see, I might consider that… if I were straight,” Justin teased. “I don’t suppose you ran out of prospects now, Ms. Mendez.” 

 

”Hello? Have we met? I’m Ruth Mendez. And the answer to that would be - - _NEV-AH!_ ” She leaned in closer to Justin almost brushing her oversized and almost naked breast against his shoulder, “I’d love to go with you, hun, but I got a hot date tonight.”

 

“Oh,” Justin feeling the mass of melon-like flesh on him squirmed from his seat and quickly stood up. “So, what is it this time? Uh...I mean, Ruth c’mon I don’t get you, sometimes. Why can’t you just make up your fickle mind and settle to which you enjoy most,” he said casually.

 

Ruth nudged him in the arm before answering, “Oh, you silly fags. Let’s just say I want to enjoy the best of both worlds. Why choose one over the other when I can have both? Besides, I haven’t fully explored the depths and heights of - -“

 

Justin rolled his eyes at her. “Okay, okay. Let’s leave it at that. You go on with your exploration, while I try to explore the possibility of getting a decent meal tonight. In any case, enjoy your hot date, _lov-ah_ girl.”

 

After waving Ruth goodbye, Justin debated mentally whether he would go with his original plan to eat supper at the Trafalgar. Feeling pathetic in dining alone, he chucked the idea and thought of going straight home and just order in pizza. 

 

Walking to the next bus stop would translate to walking in the vicinity of Liberty Street. He remembered how almost a year ago he dreaded trudging this exact route, afraid he might cross path with Brian, or someone that knew Brian or someone who might knew about the ill-fated wedding. Justin hated how people acted like they had brooms stacked up in their asses and appeared to be walking in egg shells around him. He just can’t stand all the sympathy and words of comfort. They just make him feel more miserable.

 

So tonight, here he is - _yet again_. He pitched the thought out of his mind and continued to walk. ‘What the hell, as if I still care,’ he murmured. His long strides were suddenly put to halt as he recognized he was just standing a few steps from the Liberty Diner. It’s been a while since he last saw Debbie, and he all at once felt a pang of guilt for not returning her calls. He decided to stop by for a while to say his hello and apology.

 

Upon entering the Liberty Diner, Justin felt butterflies in his stomach. The kind that you feel when you step iin on the first day of class in first grade. The diner is packed, there were even some people standing, probably waiting for some seats to be vacated. He didn’t need to see them to make out that his beloved friends are seated at their usual place. The distinct singsongy voice of Emmet could be heard amidst the bustle in the room. Thinking that he might distract Deb from work he carefully turned around and walked the few steps to the door. 

 

“Sunshine!” Deb hollered, loud enough to make every single breathing soul in the diner stop whatever they were engaged in and switch focus to Justin.

 

Justin froze in his tracks like a boy _caught_ sneaking cookies from the jar. He let out a deep breath then slowly turned around. He hadn’t had the chance to open his mouth yet when Debbie lunged forward and engulfed him in a vise-grip hug.

 

“Ahh….oohh….Deb, please. I can’t….breath. Aahhh…you’re …. _strang--ling_ me,” Justin managed to say in between gasps. Debbie was like a mad woman, peppering him with kisses.

 

“Ma, cut it off! He’s gonna expire anytime soon, if you don’t,” Michael exclaimed coming to Justin’s rescue.

 

Ben quickly slipped out of the booth and peeled Justin off from Debbie’s _tentacles_. “Deb come on, you can let go now,” he lead Justin to the booth where the rest of the boys were all standing up in full attention.

 

“Oh, forgive me honey, I just missed you,” Deb apologized, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Christ, Sunshine, you got me so worried!”

 

Emmett seeing the ruckus Debbie had created turned his attention to the poring crowd and clapped his hands to get everyone’s awareness. “Okay, okay …the fabulous show is over. The _Prodigal Son_ has returned. You may go back to your meals, now. C’mon, you don’t want your food to get cold, do you?” He raised his brows, and projected a queenly stance by placing both his hands on his hips.

 

“Here Justin, sit down,” Ted scooted to the inner side of the booth to give the blond ample space.

 

“Thanks,” Justin said as he plopped next to Ted. “Jeez, I think I just lost my appetite,” he said as he grabbed the menu list from Debbie’s hand. He scanned the items dutifully but not really reading them. After working for several years in the Liberty Diner, he’s commited to memory each and every food entry listed on it.

 

“You should try the blueberry waffles with side order of bacon and egg, they’re _really_ good,” Michael suggested earnestly.

 

Justin slammed the menu on the table and cast a death glare to Michael, whose eyes have turned big as saucers. “Michael, please, _don’t_ start with me,” Justin said incredulously.

 

“What did I say?” Michael asked sheepishly then looked at Ben. 

 

Ben squeezed Michael’s hand and gave a tentative smile. “Okay, Justin, order what you want. Don’t mind Michael,” he paused to pick a french fry from Michael’s plate and shoved it in his mouth. “Ooh, this _fry_ is really good,” he said while chewing the offending thing.

 

“Ben, sweetie, I never realized you like fries,” Deb cocked her head as she pulled out her pad and paper.

 

“Christ, stop acting like I’m a zombie that rose from the fucking grave. I’m perfectly fine. I’m alive. I’m breathing. In fact I just came from a grueling ten-hour work. So please continue with your food and let me have mine in peace,” Justin demanded.

 

“Surely, sweetie,” Emmett acquiesced. “So, you’re back at The Metro, huh. That’s nice, you’re back in the loop,” Justin nodded as he finished giving Debbie her order.

 

“Ahhh, long day at work. Tell you what you need… um, a good time with your ol’ friends. Maybe you can come to Woody’s with us later, what do you say?” Ted asked.

 

“Yeah, Justin. We won’t stay that long. Couple of drinks, maybe a round of pool, then we go home,” Michael second the motion.

 

“I’m sure that’ll be great, but thanks for the offer. I’m just a little drained…from work. Maybe some other time, okay?”

 

“If you’re worried, you’ll run across my _boss_ , don’t worry. He doesn’t frequent the place anymore,” Ted declared as he finished the last serving on his plate. Justin sneered at the declaration.

 

“That’s right Teddy, where is the Great Kinney hanging around these days?” Emmett asked.

 

“Why am I not a bit surprised, perhaps he found a _new_ breeding place. Besides, I am _not_ avoiding him,” said Justin.

 

“We actually haven’t seen him for a while, Justin,” Ben countered. “After the night at your apartment…I mean, after you two talked, he sort of … _lay low_.” 

 

“Who the fuck is laying low?” Debbie interjected as she placed Justin’s order in front of him.

 

“It’s Brian, Ma. I attempted several times to get him to meet me for lunch or dinner, but he’s always got an excuse not to see me. I’m starting to get worried,” Michael dug out his mobile phone in his pocket and speed dialed a number.

 

“Who are you calling, honey?” Inquired Emmett.

 

“I’m trying Brian’s number. Shit, it’s the voice mail picking up,” Michael shut the phone and place it on the table.

 

“Well I’m sure he’s fine, Michael. You know Brian, he likes to maintain some air of _mystery_ every now and then,” Ben said then kissed his husband lightly on the head.

 

“Well, yeah. He’s been acting strange lately. Not that Brian Kinney’s actions are a no-brainer to decode. But he’s a little fidgety…. spaced out. He even _missed_ a couple of meetings that Cynthia had set up for him this morning.” Ted said with a shrug. Michael furrowed his brows.

 

“If you ask me, the _only_ mystery that needs some serious solving right now is to find the sick bastards that …,” Deb stopped herself from talking further upon seeing Justin flinched from his seat. “I’m sorry, Sunshine.”

 

Justin nodded to acknowledge Debbie’s apology. He forced a smile, pushed his plate away and stood up to collect his things. “Well, I hafta go now.”

 

“Sunshine, you didn’t even touch your food,” Debbie complained.

 

“So you’re not coming with us?” Ted asked sliding out from the booth.

 

“Nah….maybe next time,” Justin gave each one of the boys a slight peck on the cheek then pulled Debbie in a tight embrace. “Bye, Deb. _Sorry_ I’ve been in a rut,” he whispered in her ears then kissed her softly in the head.

 

“We’ll get the motherfuckers, Sunshine. I promise you that. Don’t be a stranger, call me and call your mother, okay?” Justin nodded dutifully then waved goodbye to the rest of the boys.

 

Michael bolted from his seat and sped off to follow Justin out of the diner. “Hey, Justin, wait up!”

 

“What is it, Michael, you forgot something? Geez, it’s freezing out here.”

 

“I’m sorry, you wanna go back inside?”

 

“It’s okay. Anything wrong? Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise,” Justin said as he rubbed his hands together.

 

“No, me and Ben are doing great,” Michael said. “I don’t know if it’s right to ask this of you.” 

 

Justin looked at him with a bewildered expression, “Ask me what?”

 

“I, um, I really think you should …. you should go _check_ on Brian.” 

 

“Are you shitting me?” Justin exclaimed, shaking his head.

 

He moved closer to Justin and laid a hand on his shoulder, “I know something is bothering him. And I feel he’s not really doing well. But of course we all know the Kinney speak. He won’t give us the satisfaction of knowing what’s on his mind.”

 

“And you expect me to go knock-knocking at his door to _unravel_ the mystery?”

 

“I asked him what they talked about that night, but, he never told me.” Michael said.

 

Justin evidently confused, shook his head vigorously. “Michael, fuck, what the hell are you talking about? You don’t make sense at all. What did you ask Brian? Who did he speak with? C’mon help me out here.” 

 

“Brian _didn’t_ tell you?” 

 

“Tell me what?” Justin threw his hands in an upward motion, signifying his annoyance. “Damn it, Michael. Would you just fucking drive to your point?!”

 

“Justin…the _night_ Matthew was slained, I saw him.” Michael’s voice was trembling. Justin’s body stiffened at the sudden mention of his ex-lover’s name.

 

“What did you say? You’re kidding, right? Fuck, you’re creeping me out,” Justin’s breathing has started to labor. He backed a few steps away from Michael.

 

“Justin, you need to calm down,” Michael said as he tried to hold the blonde’s shaking hands. Justin jumped at the contact then yanked his hand away.

 

“Where did you see him? He was with me that night. Deb even called us, you can ask her. What do you know? What does Brian have to _do_ with any of this, Michael? Answer me!”

 

Suddenly, the Diner’s door swung open. Debbie and Ben came out, followed by Ted and Emmett, question mark written all across their faces. “What’s going on in here?” Debbie inquired.

 

“Yeah, Michael. Why don’t you tell us all what you know on the night Matthew was killed,” Justin demanded. Tears on the verge of falling.

 

Ben went over to his husband’s side and put his arm around him. “Michael, what is Justin talking about?”

 

Michael removed himself from Ben and looked Justin straight in the eyes. “I was _with_ Brian that night. I came over to the loft to return something and to ask if he’s coming to, um…your wedding. Brian was letting me out already when….,” Michael paused to choke back the lump in his throat, “when we opened the door….Matthew was there. I didn’t know what happened next, I left them both together.” 

 

“Oh my God,” Emmett cried. 

 

“Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” Debbie grasped Ted’s hand to brace herself from falling.

 

Justin bit his lips at the pronouncement then dropped his bag to the ground. He fished for his celphone in his pocket. With shaky hands, he pressed the buttons, up and down, finding a particular number. He locked on his target then pushed the dial button. Everyone caught their breath as they waited for Justin to talk to the person on the other line.

 

“ _Carl_? Hi, it’s me, Justin. I’m calling to report a _suspect_ for the murder of Matthew Anthony Wade,” Justin said then looked Michael straight in the eyes. “His name is _**Brian Aidan Kinney**._ ”


	6. Father and Son

  
Author's notes: Thanks for the reviews. No beta, guilty as charged for all the errors - Kaye ;o) 

* * *

“Hi Deb,” Melanie called out as she, Lindsay and Gus entered the diner. 

“Hi sweetie,” said Deb as she finished delivering two pink plate festivals to the rear booth. She rushed to the girls and gave them kisses on the cheeks. “Hi there, kiddo,” she greeted Gus and mussed his hair.

“Sorry for the short notice, Deb. Are you sure it’s okay to leave him here for a while?” Lindsay asked as she took off Gus’ coat. “As much as we’d like to bring him to see Brian, they won’t allow him.”

“Oh, don’t worry sweetie, I really don’t mind,” Debbie said cheerily.

Melanie set down Gus’ bag and took out books, some paper and colored pencils. “Thanks Deb. Michael volunteered to look after Jenny Rebecca. He and Ben came over very early this morning to take her.” 

“I’m sure the boys are very pleased to spend their Saturday with little J.R., she’s a bundle of joy, that girl,” Debbie beamed at Melanie. She turned to Lindsay and immediately noticed the forlorn appearance in her face, “Honey, are you okay?”

Lindsay smiled tentatively but didn’t say anything. The look in her eyes is enough to convey pent up emotions. Debbie steered Lindsay to the next booth and sat her down. Lindsay obliged without protest.

“How’s Brian holding up?” Debbie asked. 

“He sounded fine, but I know he just doesn’t want me to worry. He will have to stay in detention over the weekend. We dropped by at his loft earlier to get him some change of clothes,” Lindsay said.

“They charged Brian with _criminal homicide_ and he was refused bail. Since it’s a weekend, he will have to sit his royal ass in confinement as he waits for his arraignment on Monday, ” Melanie added.

“Mel,” Lindsay glared at Melanie and pointedly looked at Gus sitting at the adjacent booth, keenly coloring some drawings.

“Sorry,” Melanie quickly apologized, pursing her lips. “Well, thanks again, Deb. We should go ahead,” she said then walked over to Gus, planting a kiss on his head. 

Debbie smiled and pulled Lindsay in a tight hug, “Tell Brian, I love him. And I’ll come see him tomorrow, okay?”

“I’d definitely do that. He sure could use some support from us,” Lindsay said weakly, almost in a sob. “I still can’t believe Justin would _do_ this…,” she stopped mid-sentence, looking away to wipe the tears that started to fall.

“Hush now. It’s not for us to judge Justin, honey. He did what he felt was what he _needed_ to do,” Debbie said with conviction. “Knowing Sunshine, I’m certain as hell he is having a difficult time dealing with everything that’s been happening.” 

“Then he should have _not_ acted impulsively!” Lindsay lashed out bitterly earning a puzzled look from Gus.

“Mom? Are you and Nana Deb fighting?” Gus asked looking from Lindsay to Debbie. 

Lindsay startled and obviously taken aback with Gus’ reaction, quickly rushed to the little boy’s side and held his little hands, reassuringly. “No, honey, Nana Deb and I are not fighting. We were just discussing something. Mom just got a little …um…carried away,” she said, trying to sound in high spirits despite herself.

Gus nodded and smiled. “Okay, I jus’ don’ like you upset, mom,” Gus said caressing Lindsay’s face. “Please tell daddy don’ be upset too. Tell him tis’ not my fault I can’t go see him. Tell him Gus misses him.” 

Lindsay enveloped Gus in a tight embrace to hide her welling eyes from him. “I will, baby. I’m sure your daddy will be very happy to know that.” Lindsay managed to say through trembling voice.

“Uhm..,” Melanie choked on her words. 

There was a long uncomfortable silence. Debbie sensing that her jovial disposition is what the situation rightfully required stepped closer and pulled the mother and son apart. “Okay you ladies do what you need to do,” she said practically propelling Lindsay away, “little Gus and I will have a great time together, right sweetie?” Debbie said winking at him. Gus smiled bashfully.

 

========

 

**JUSTIN'S POV**

****_There is an in-between time  
When nothing sticks to me  
There is no pain or pleasure then  
There’s just anxiety_

The images kept on playing in my mind.

_“Justin, hey,” he said. Astonishment very apparent in his face._

_“I hope I’m not interrupting any personal engagement,” I said in a monotone._

_“No, not at all. Anything I can help you with?”_

_Silence. Blue eyes staring coldly at hazel eyes._

_“Was it worth it, Brian?” Simple, direct questions. That was what I came here for._

_“Well, I don’t exactly know where you’re driving at Sunshine, but, I’ll just _hop_ in for what it’s worth,” he said smirking. “Yes. I always try my best to make it worth my while.”_

_“Hmn.. I thought so,” I said. I lowered my gaze and focused on his feet. It was the dumbest thing to do. But I found myself drawn to them, he really has _nice_ feet._

_“Um.. are you gonna stand there to stare at my feet?”_

_I shot him a glance, he was half-smiling. God, I can **drown** in that smile. It’s the kind of smile that he does when he’s…open, unguarded. I wanted to smile back, but I censured myself right away. That wasn’t in the agenda for today. “So, how did it happen? Did you do it yourself? Or did you resort to hiring some goons to do it for you? Was it quick? I hope you didn’t make him suffer that long.” I enunciated the last statement testily._

_‘You wanna sit down and put me under some goddamn bright lights, Sunshine? Maybe you can stick some fucking electrodes in my tits, too. That’s kinky, haven’t really tried that before,” he slyly remarked._

_“Don’t be such a wise-ass Brian. You know very well what I’m talking about.” I walked past him and entered his loft uninvited._

_He caught my arm and yanked me toward him. My shoulder brushed against his rigid body. Brian studied my face for a moment. And in his deep throaty voice he asked, “ **And you think I did it?** ” My heart was racing, pounding ludicrously. I could feel the heat in his breath. His lips were so red. Taunting. Tempting._

_I swallowed hard at the intensity of the moment. The growing ache in my groin was overwhelming. All the while I thought I came prepared. I shifted my eyes at the couch. “Then why was he here? Why did you leave out this piece of information?” I asked tensely._

_He loosened his grip on me. Then detached himself totally. He strode away and proceeded to the liquor cart. “Justin, your boyfriend went to me. I **didn’t** invite him over. If he just had the sense in minding his own goddamn business, he would not - -”_

_“Get himself killed. Was that it, Brian?” I paused, waiting for his rebuttal. One. Two. Three seconds. Nothing came. “You can’t stand a happy Justin, can you? So you went ahead and decided to waste that one person who could offer him what you can’t…or, you won’t - whatever the fuck that meant.”_

_He poured himself a drink and took a quick swig from his glass. His back was turned to me. “Get a grip, Sunshine. Obviously, your mind is still in the dump. I think it’s best if you just leave. There is no sense in talking to you when your brain is devoid of reason.”_

_“Maybe I’ll stay,” I countered. “Carl is on his way up with the warrant. I wanna see him recite your rights before they escort you out of this building.” The acrid words escaped my mouth before I had the chance to restrain them._

_And he just stood there. Didn’t even fucking flinch at the declaration. It was as if he was expecting this scenario to unfold anytime._

****_And in this in-between time  
I start to think of death  
It isn’t life I want to lose,  
It’s the tightness in my chest._

I felt my head spinning like a torpedo. I grabbed my coat and hurriedly left the gallery. Ruth saw me sped off but didn’t stop me in my tracks. She knew better when to give me the space I need.

 

==========

 

Fate has a sick way of playing games with me. I needed momentary escape from Brian occupying my mind, and who do I run to when I reached the diner.

A pair of curious eyes looked up as I made my entrance. “Justin!” Gus cried as he jumped from his seat and ran full-speed to me. “I was hoping you’d come.” 

“Hey, Gussy,” I said, kissing him in the forehead. “What are you doing here, where are your mummies?” 

Gus clasped my hand and tugged me towards his seat. “They went out to see daddy. Mommy said little boys _ar’nt_ allowed to come. Dad didn't tell me he's away this weekend," he nonchalantly replied. I felt my heart dropped. I had to look down to make sure I didn’t run over it. 

“I miss you Justin,” he said. The words warmed my heart instantly. 

That’s one of the things that set Brian and Gus apart – the little boy never had a trouble in speaking out his emotions. But then again, maybe Brian was that way when he was six. Maybe, most six year olds are. Until all the years of living in with a fucked-up family took its toll and deplete all the endearing qualities.

I dismissed the thoughts running in my head and draped my arms all over Gus. “I miss you too, kiddo. I’m sorry I haven’t visited you lately.”

“S’ okay. Dad said you were busy. And I know you were sad, too, because Uncle Matthew _left_ already,” he curtly said. 

“Yeah,” was all I managed to say.

”Here, draw something.” Gus tore off a page in his pad and handed it to me. “Draw anything you like…um…happy moments.” This is definitely one of those times when he is his father’s son – he _liked_ being in charge.

Happy moments. _**Great**_. For a while I was tempted to ask, ‘ _with whom_ ’. “Okay, what are you drawing Gus?” I leaned over and took a closer look at the little boy’s illustration.

Gus shrugged. “A picture of daddy,” he said, grabbing a black crayon and started shading the patch of hair in the stick figure. “Dad said when he **misses** somebody he draws them.” His face lit up out of the blue and dug through his bag. “ _Aha!_ ” He exclaimed holding out a folded paper. 

“What is it?” I asked, scrunching up my nose.

He carefully unfolded the piece of paper and placed it in front of me. I crooked my head to examine the crude illustration in the pad. My face reddened as soon as I recognized that it was a picture of **myself**. The stick figure is standing outside what looked like a _chapel_ (I figured that one because of the big cross fixture atop its roof). Its hair is colored yellow, dressed in a white shirt and black pants. A big smile was plastered across its face.

“This is really wonderful, Gus,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “But you should have placed two button eyes right here, " I said while adorning the stick figure's face with blue dots. "When did you draw this?”

“Um…I didn’t,” he said shaking his head. “Dad made that one. He said that’s how you will look like in yer weddin’ day. But he forgot to put yer eyes. Dad said he don't know how to draw yer _pretty_ eyes,” he said blushing.

Suddenly the lump in my throat tripled in size, choking the fucking life out of me. I clumsily reached out for Gus’ glass of water and drained it empty. **God, this father and son tandem will be the _death_ of Justin Taylor**. 

I looked over my shoulder to find Deb for reinforcement. I don’t think I can still stand a minute more trying to _pretend_ like a grown up in front of Gus. For once I want the world to forget that I am a twenty three year old man. I want for someone to tell me, ' _you're allowed to fuck-up, Justin_ '. Right here, right now…. I want to cry my heart out and not give a flying fuck what other people would say.

“Are you okay, Justin? Didn't ya like Dad's drawing?” Gus slipped out from his seat, went around and scooted beside me. “I think yer pretty eyes are cryin'.”

“I’m okay, Gus,” I said, trying my damn best to put my tears at bay. “It’s my allergies acting up.”

He moved in closer, wrapping his tiny arms around me. “S’ okay. You can hug me. I always Iet dad hug me to shoo his allergies away. He's such a cry-baby,” he chuckled. "But that's our li'l secret, okay?"

And that’s it. I’m officially back to being _six_ . I sat there, clutching Gus' little frame, bawling over the mess I've done.


	7. Not Guilty your Honor

  
Author's notes: Thanks for all the nice reviews. BTW, I'm no lawyer, so everything in the court scene I had to validate from my lawyer friend. No beta, all errors are mine - Kaye ;o)   


* * *

**8:45 a.m.**

“Brian, hey, you okay? Don't worry, it's gonna be fine. You're going to be fine.”

“Thanks, Mel. I'm peachy. 'Seen this scene in the movies gazillion times. Look serious, maintain eye contact, chant _'Yes, your Honor_ '. That’s not too hard. Wow, who would have thought, huh? The Great Kinney starring in a court scene drama.”

“Quit it, asshole. This is no soap. This is _real_ life. This is about you and the truth. You get it? You're doing this for Gus.”

“Umm..’kay. I got it.”

“Now, let’s go..”

**IN THE UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT  
FOR THE EASTERN DISTRICT OF PENNSYLVANIA**

**THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA  
Plaintiff **

**v.**

**BRIAN AIDAN KINNEY  
Defendant **

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE COURT:  
“All right. The purpose of this proceeding this morning is to advise you of your rights, advise you of the charges against you, and to set conditions for bond, if that is appropriate in your case. This is not your trial on the charges against you. You do have the right to remain silent, which means you don’t have to say anything. And anything you do say can be used against you.

The first case we’re going to do this morning is _United States vs. Brian Aidan Kinney_.

THE COURT:   
“Sir, kindly state your name for the record.”

THE DEFENDANT:   
“I am Brian Aidan Kinney.”

THE COURT:   
“Are you under the influence of drugs or alcohol at this time, or have you been during the last 24 hours?

THE DEFENDANT:   
“Huh? I didn’t hear you, I’m sorry”.

THE COURT:   
“Let me repeat for you Mr. Kinney, are you under the influence of drugs or alcohol at this time, or have you been during the last 24 hours?”

MS. MARCUS:  
“It’s okay, Brian. You may reply.”

THE DEFENDANT:  
“No sir, um, your Honor.”

THE COURT:   
“Do you understand what’s going on here today?”

THE DEFENDANT:   
“Pretty much. Yes, your honor.”

THE COURT:   
“Ms. Melanie Marcus, you will be representing Mr. Kinney?”

MS. MARCUS:   
“Yes, your Honor. Along with Mr. John Stevens.”

THE COURT:   
“Both of you are making a general appearance?”

MS. MARCUS:   
“Yes, your Honor.”

THE COURT:  
“All right. Let the record reflect that Mr. Kinney will be represented by both Ms. Marcus and Mr. Stevens.   
Mr. Kinney, have you been given a copy of the Indictment in this case?”

THE DEFENDANT:   
“Yes, I have.” 

THE COURT:   
“And have you had the opportunity to view that with Ms. Marcus, your attorney?”

THE DEFENDANT:   
“Yes, I have.”

THE COURT:  
“Ms. Marcus, on behalf of Mr. Kinney, do you want me to read the Indictment or you will waive formal reading?”

MS. MARCUS:   
“Your Honor, we’ll waive the formal reading of the Indictment.”

THE COURT:   
“All right. Let the record show that the Defendant waived formal reading. Mr. Kinney, you plead **Not Guilty** for the alleged homicide of Matthew Andrew Wade. As indicated by your signature in the Information published in open court. Unless the court is notified otherwise, the file will reflect the defendant to be present at all pretrial motions and at this time expects a trial in the case.

This case has been assigned to me.

I’ve got a motion filing deadline of August 21, 2005.

Now we move on to the filing of the bond………”

 

============= 

 

**6:18 p.m.**

 

“Hey, you got a minute? There’s someone outside looking for you.”

“Huh?” Justin looked up from his desk, offering Ruth a blank stare. 

“You okay? You look awfully tired,” she said walking toward Justin. She sat at the edge of his table. “I can tell the lady to come back some other time, if you want.”

“Lady,” Justin repeated. 

“Yea, that’s what I said. And stop giving me mono-syllabic replies, will you? What’s up with you, Taylor?” 

“I’m sorry Ruth,” he turned to his laptop and clicked on the save key. “I’m good. Just working on something.” 

Ruth gave Justin the once over then decided to drop the subject. “Fine. Well, going back to the lady. She’s neither your mother nor the _bubblegum-masticator-red-haired-lady_ from that diner.”

“Debbie, from the Liberty Diner.”

“Yeah. Maybe. _Whatever_.”

“Who is she, then?”

“How the fuck should I know? Only one way to find out,’ Ruth said testily, “drag your lazy ass out there!”

“ _Eeeea-sy_ , Madam Mendez. You don’t want that five hundred dollar _Botox_ injection to go down the drain, do you?” stated Justin, reluctantly getting up from his seat.

“Hey –“ 

“Ah..ah..ah,” Justin cut her off, exaggeratedly miming a ‘zipping the mouth’ gesture. 

“I’m just saying, be careful. That lady out there has trouble written all over her face,” Ruth warned softly.

Justin smiled, nodded then mouthed, “thanks”.

 

==========

 

Justin stepped out from the gallery as the streetlights have just come on. There was a light, chilly breeze blowing leaves down the pavement. He spotted his guest standing a few steps from the lamp post. Her back was turn to him.

“Ahm. Excuse me, can I help you?” Justin asked.

Upon hearing his voice, the lady turned around to face Justin. She is about five feet three tall, with dirty blond hair pulled up behind in a pony tail. She was dressed in a crimson top and a charcoal gray billowy skirt. Her face had the slightest tint of cheek stain and lip color. Nothing fancy about her.

“Hello. I’m Tonya. I suppose you are Justin. Justin Taylor, right?” She consciously wiped her hand from her coat swathe around her forearm before holding them out to Justin. Justin dutifully acquiesced by reaching out and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Yes. I am Justin Taylor. Tonya, that’s a lovely name. If you’re here for the gallery, we can go inside and I can show you around.”

“I didn’t come to see your gallery. I _hate_ paintings and canvasses and colors. Never liked them,” she said brusquely. Her face was devoid of any emotion.

“Oh,” Justin feebly said. His voice equally offended and surprised with the audacity of his guest.

“Look, I’m not gonna stay long,” she unzipped her hand bag and dug out for something. Once she stopped rummaging, Justin concluded that she had finally found what she was looking for.

“Okay, Tonya, since you _categorically_ stated your distinct abhorrence with art, I don’t think there’s anything more I can be of service to you. But should you change your --” 

“I think _this_ belongs to you,” she rudely interjected and handed Justin a paper bag. Justin barely looked at the offered thing.

“What is that?” 

“Just take it, okay? I don’t want it in my possession.” 

“No. I’m not taking it. What’s inside that bag, anyway?” Justin spat, his voice higher by couple of decibel.

Tonya didn’t answer. She crouched down and laid the bag in the ground. Justin stood frozen in bewilderment. ‘ _Fuck, this lady is not gonna make things easy for me_ ,’ he thought to himself.

Then like a woman in absolute accomplishment of a mission; Tonya stood up, put on her coat, straightened her posture, and hurriedly walked away.

Justin was left standing, mouth hung open, completely distraught by the mystery bounty and the anonymous consigner. In one quick move, he swoop the package from the ground then ran off to catch up with Tonya.

“Tonya, stop! Please, wait up,” he called out, panting.

“Please, Mr. Taylor, just let me leave. I won’t be bothering you again,” she said in between long strides.

Justin running in full speed finally caught up with Tonya and grabbed her by the hand. “I said, stop!” 

She tried to yank away from his grip with surprising strength, and as they struggle, the bag inadvertently slipped from Justin’s hand and fell off the cold cement. Its contents strewn all over.

 

_A brown colored leather men’s wallet..._

_A diver’s watch with blue dial..._

_A small black velvet box..._

 

There was silence for a long time. Justin’s face flicked through surges of emotions as he scanned the number of things laid on the ground. First, there was confusion, then disbelief, pain followed closely, before it finally settled to anger.

Justin’s face turned bright red and his jaw muscles clenched like a fist. He glared at Tonya who had now started to shiver. “ _ **Where. The. Fuck. Did. You. Get. These?**_ ” Each word was punctuated with rage. “ _Answer_ me, you mother fucking bitch!”

Tonya’s eyes were filled with terror and tears started to spill. She looked around as if perhaps there were a sign or something to cue her from what to say next. When her eyes landed on Justin and saw the grim expression on his face, she started to speak. “The _man_ came to our house and offered my husband, Alex, some money. He asked Alex to … to **do** it. My husband didn’t want to. Alex is a good man, believe me. But the man threatened Alex of losing his job if he resist ….” she said unperturbed. But her eyes gave away the rush of panic engulfing her whole being.

Justin felt a knot in his chest and can barely comprehend what was being revealed before him. ‘ _She spoke it like it’s an everyday occurrence_ ’. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine meeting someone like her. Justin felt he's going to be sick.

She continued to speak as if she had prepared this speech for a long time now. “Please know that my husband didn’t take his money. He is really _sorry_ for what he did. He didn’t mean to...kill him. He’s just supposed to scare him off or something. But the man started making noises and -,”

“That man’s name was Matthew. Scare him off or … _something_? What the fuck does it mean? You people are sick!”

Justin felt his eyes burn with hot tears. God damn it. He _let_ them fall.

“He got scared, he didn’t know what to do. He’s really sorry. I love Alex , please, …” Tonya continued to jabber in between sobs. Her hands are covering her face now. Hiding her embarrassment. Veiling her profound guilt. 

‘ _Yeah, that’s right. Be ashamed. Be very ashamed._ ’ Justin said to himself. He meant to say it out loud. But somehow, his tongue was lagging way behind in processing everything he’s discovered. 

“If you so love your son of a bitch husband, then… why did you come to me?” he finally asked her.

The shivering stopped but her body flinched from the sudden question. “I don’t know, I was not thinking. I thought that if I give the stuff back to you, everything will return to where they used to be. Justin, we have three children. They all _love_ and look up to their father. But everyday , that admiration diminishes because Alex has turned into someone …we barely know.”

Justin bit his lip really hard from the woman’s declaration. “And I’m supposed to express sympathy for him and the rest of your family? You are one crazy woman, married to an equally lunatic man! Do you realize what you’re asking of me?” Justin asked incredulously. Hands flailing up in the air. “You expect me to just...brush it off. To say ‘ _hey, no offense taken, let bygones be bygones_ ’. Dismiss it just like that and pretend none of these ever happened.” 

“He’s really sorry for what he did. He’s already grown frail from not eating and sleeping. He –“

“He fucking **deserves** that and more! He's a murderer, for Christ’s sake! He _ruined_ our lives! I incriminated an innocent man and is now being tried for something he’s totally not guilty of. And that man has a child, too.” Another tear slid down Justin’s face. “His name is Gus, he’s just six and he _loves_ his father very much. Do you hear me? Fuck... _we_ both love that man very much,” Justin said in exasperation.

Tonya made no more attempt to talk. She simply stood there, bag clutched in her hand, and looked at Justin with eyes reflecting remorse and grief. 

Justin dropped to his knees and began collecting Matthew's things one by one. Carefully tossing them back to the bag. As his touch connected to each object, he felt his chest grew heavier and his breathing became harder as he is reminded of everything that had transpired in the last few weeks. He caressed the black velvet box in his hands a bit longer, but did not open it. “The man who came to your husband, what’s his _name_?” he met Tonya’s eyes and asked.

Once again, she did not answer. But instead, she dug at her coat’s pocket and retrieved a piece of paper. “I don’t know. My husband never told me. But I remembered his car’s plate number. Here, take this,” she said in a surreal voice, leaning over to give Justin the paper.

With trembling hand, Justin reached for the offending thing and once he saw what was written on it, his body stiffened and his eyes almost bust out of their socket.

“The heartless son of a bitch. God, what did I do to deserve this?” Justin weakly said as he clutched the bag close to his heart.


	8. The Mystery Man

  
Author's notes: I am the happiest girl today. My muse has returned and have been extra nice - he let me finish the whole chapter in one sitting! Sorry for the long delay, but i hope you enjoy this one. This story is not beta'ed - all errors are mine. - Kaye ;o) 

* * *

**IMPT.** \- The Italics suggest past events.

* * *

_**Trafalgar Restaurant  
Three Months before Wade/Taylor Nuptial** _

_“Justin, baby, so glad you made it,” Matthew said getting up from his seat to give his lover a quick kiss on the lips._

_“Yeah, I told Ruth I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Justin responded. He took off his jacket and pulled out the chair adjacent to Mathew. “So, tell me hotfudge, who is this extra special guy you wanted me to meet? He better not expect somebody in a coat and tie, okay? He should know by now your boyfriend’s an artist,” Justin said giggling. He leaned over and tried to reach for the menu set at the opposite side of the table._

_Matthew caught Justin’s outstretched hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Jus, don’t worry. Dominic is a very nice guy. Well, he can be a bit intimidating, but, don’t let it mislead you. He’s the best brother that I have. Um..not that I have anyone other than him. But, I’m sure you’ll like him,” Matthew said reassuringly._

_“I’m not worrying, Matt. I’m sure he’s a great guy just like you. You have met my overly protective mother and eccentric sister, not to mention the rest of the crazy Liberty Brat pack. It’s only fair that I meet this fabulous brother you keep on gushing you have. Frankly, I’m starting to believe he’s just a figment of your weird imagination,” Justin said snorting. He motioned the waiter to refill his glass with more water._

_“He kept on asking things about you… stuff you like. He also has this thing with Arts. He’s very excited to know you, seriously.”_

_“Uh-huh, I’m sure he is. Who wouldn’t be? Did you also happen to tell him that I have a perfect butt and the most luscious lips on this face of the earth?”_

_“Yeah, and that too,” Matthew said, shaking his head._

_Justin dug his head to the menu and went through it. “What do you think we should order?” There was no reply. Matthew’s gaze was fixated in the direction where an old couple are seated closely together and having soft conversations. “Matt, you okay?” asked Justin._

_“My dad and mom would have been delighted to meet you, too, you know,” Matthew said somberly._

_“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Look at me,” Justin said, shifting his body so that he is directly facing the other man. “Matt, Iook at me,” he repeated. Matthew obliged on the second request._

_“It’s okay. I know I will never have the fortune of ever meeting your parents. The people that were responsible in bringing to this world the man that I am going to marry,” Justin said without taking his eyes off Matthew. “But, I am absolutely certain that they are amazing and very kind people. I know. I see their goodness in you, Matt. Wherever they are right now, I’m sure they are very proud and happy for you…for us,” added Justin, his eyes glistening with foreboding tears._

_Matthew leaned over and pulled the blonde into a tight embrace. His soft sobs soon came after as Justin continued to rub his back soothingly. They remained in that position, one trying to seek solace, and the other willingly offering._

_“Um…I swear that couple seated by the bay window had just lost their appetite. Look at you both. Grown-up men and bawling at a posh restaurant like this,” said a gruff voice that jolted Justin and Matthew from their romantic state._

_“Fuck, how long have you been standing there?” asked Matthew as he wiped his tear-stricken face. Justin seized the table napkin on the table and dabbed it to his equally welling eyes._

_“Well, long enough to witness how the poor maître d’ had to convince some of their freaking homophobe customers to stay and have dessert,” said the handsome man in the blue expensive suit._

_Matthew quickly slipped out of his seat to give him one of that brotherly-macho-hug. After the short exchange of pleasantries, the man turned his gaze to Justin and extended his hand courteously. “Hi there, gorgeous. I’m **Dominic Wade**.”_

_Justin rose from his seat and shook his hand, “Justin Taylor. I’m glad to finally meet you, Dominic,” he said, flashing his patented Sunshine smile._

 

====0====

 

“Thanks, Deb,” Justin said as Debbie handed him a mug of coffee.

“So, did you not notice anything odd about this Dominic, Sunshine? Did you ever see them fight? There must be something that triggered this whole damn thing. I mean, only a very sick guy can do this to his own flesh and blood!” Debbie exclaimed, looking at Carl who is seated from across Justin.

“Debbie, sweetheart, let’s try not to jump into any conclusions yet,” Carl began. “This lady that Justin said came to him. She just saw the car’s plate number. What we need right now is to invite her to the precinct to get her formal statements. There is a proper procedure that needs to be- -“

“Fuck procedure!” Debbie hollered, up in arms. “Christ Carl, this twisted woman adamantly admitted to Justin that her husband is the bastard that murdered Matt. She gave Sunshine the instigator’s plate number, and now we know the car belonged to that Dominic. Now, what procedure are you talking about? Tell your boys to find these fucking assholes and arrest them!”

Justin, who seemed to be lost in thought, spoke up. “I knew Dominic never liked me. He never did. I should have paid attention to all the tell-tale signs. Instead, I chose to ignore them. I thought it was normal for brothers to look out for each other that way.”

 

_“Matt, I swear, I just happened to bump into Brian in the diner! And he’s there almost every single day. It’s not as if I planned that rendezvous,” Justin exclaimed, trying his best to stay collected._

_“Come on, Justin, I told you from the beginning that you can tell me everything. You don’t have to hide anything from me. I hate it when people sneak behind my back. You know I hate fucking liars!” Matthew spat out the words bitterly._

_“What’s that supposed to mean? What the fuck do you mean by that? You think I’m two-timing you? Shit, Matt, what brought this on? Well, this is a first, you never struck me as the jealous type,” Justin retorted in disbelief._

_“If you were able to cheat on Brian…you can absolutely do the **same** thing to me, Justin.” _

_**‘...cheat on Brian …’** _

_That was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back._

_“Fuck you! Fuck you, Matthew!” Justin bellowed. He felt the blood rushed up to his head._

_“I’m sorry, Jus….I didn’t mean it that way.” Matthew apologized rushing towards Justin._

_“Don’t, Matt, please...” Justin held out his hand to prevent the other man from coming closer to him. He let out a deep breath before he continued to speak. “Ethan was a **mistake**. A huge one. I was young and I was so stuck in my fucking ideals about relationships. God knows how until now, I regret having done that to Brian. But I can’t do anything about it anymore. It’s been done. I have learned something from that experience and I swear not to let myself commit the same mistake, again.”_

_“Justin, look, let’s drop the whole thing. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to say those shitty things at you.”_

_“Who’s been feeding you with this crap?”_

_“It doesn’t matter, Justin. I know you well enough. I shouldn’t have started- -“_

_“Tell me, Matt. I need to know.”_

_“He was just looking out for my best interest. He thought that I should know about it. Dominic didn’t mean for us to fight, Jus. I guess he was just surprised to learn that you didn’t tell me. And I must admit I’m a tad pissed you didn’t tell me any sooner.”_

_“Well, pardon me sir, I didn’t realize I had to fill you in about all that’s happened between me and Brian,” Justin replied sarcastically. “If you need to know anything Matt, all you got to do is ask me. That is all. And one more thing,” Justin added, “tell your affluent, arrogant, snob brother to mind his own fucking business!”_

 

====0====

 

“Hey, free man, how’s it going?” Michael said cheerily as soon as Brian opened the loft door.

Brian let out a deep sigh before smiling wanly. “What the fuck are doing here? You don’t have an appointment with me,” he said to Michael who utterly ignored him and trooped inside the loft.

“I have been calling you since yesterday and you are not returning my calls. I thought a house call was in order,” Michael replied, carefully lading the paper bag full of groceries on the breakfast island.

“Maybe if you just try a little harder to read between the fucking lines, you would get to the conclusion that maybe... I wanted to be left _alone_.” 

“Alone? Did I just hear you say the word alone? Since when do you enjoy being by your lonesome self?”

“Since yesterday. And I’m quite having a grand time, thank you very much,” Brian said slyly.

“What’s wrong, Brian? Your case is dismissed. You’re totally off the hook. Look, it’s a gorgeous day outside, I can’t understand why you need to lock yourself up.” 

“And why the fuck would you infer that I was? What don’t you exactly understand from the words…'leave me the fuck alone'?” 

Michael fell silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help. I know you’ve been through a lot. All that’s happened…I know it’s tough.” He sighed then bit his lip from further saying anything. He then decided on what’s best for the situation. To leave Brian on his own. 'He’ll come around when he’s okay', Michael thought. 

Michael silently made his way to the exit. Before he let himself out, he took one quick glance at Brian. He was now standing by the loft’s majestic window, keenly observing the busy street below. “Bye,” Michael said finally.

“Mikey,” Brian called out. “Have they nabbed the bastards yet?” he inquired turning around to face Michael.

Michael shifted track and started to move towards the living room. “They arrested this guy named Alex. I think he was the hit man. Carl said he confessed to the crime. Unfortunately, they couldn’t locate Dominic’s whereabouts. He must have fled off to Antarctica by now. The search warrant was issued today,” he intoned before plopping down onto the sofa.

“Good,” Brian nodded. “What about …Justin? Is he okay?” He lit another stick of cigarette and took a long, intense drag.

“I don’t know. Ma said he’s not taking it good. She mentioned something about this Dominic guy not liking Justin very much. Apparently this guy _did_ certain nasty things to break off Justin and Matt. How fuck is that? I mean, how can you not want your brother to be happy? Perhaps it’s got something to do with money. Yeah, money – the root of all evil. Or maybe, the fucker is _secretly_ in love with his brother.” Michael snorted with ironic laughter.

“What did you say?” Brian asked, suddenly alarmed.

“Great. I said a whole lot, Brian. Weren’t you even paying attention?” Michael rolled his eyes at him.

“Fuck, let’s go Mikey,” Brian jumped out, dashing to the bedroom to collect his jacket and car keys.

“Hey, where are we going? I just took of my shoes. Aww! Shit, my feet are killing me.”

Brian is almost in the threshold when he looked back and saw Michael still stuck on the sofa, nursing his sore foot. He sent him a dagger look. “Grab your goddamn shoes, Michael! Now! We need to get to Justin. I got a feeling he’s in _danger_!”

 

====0====

 

**Justin’s POV**

I still can’t believe Dominic did that to Matthew. Fuck! I should have known better. I know there’s this unexplainable bond between the two of them. But …no, it can’t be. They are _just_ brothers. And brothers are supposed to **love** each other, right?

 

_“I’m going to visit Daphne to give her invite. Would you like to come?” I asked Matt as I padded to the bedroom to retrieve a couple of envelopes on top of the night table._

_“I’d love to, babe. But, I got a deadline to beat. Morris will rip me a new hole if I fail to send this blue print first thing in the morning tomorrow. Say hi to Daph for me, will ya?” Matthew said without looking. His head was bent low, hands carefully drawing what looked like a prototype of yet another building. Did I mention that he’s an architect? A fast and rising architect, I would often tell him._

_“Sure, honey bunchkins,” I teased him. He secretly loves it when I give him nicknames. Every week, he earns a new one from me. I walked over to him and planted a kiss on his head. “I’ll be quick.”_

_I was almost three blocks away when I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to bring Daphne the photos she needed for the scrap book she is putting together for me and Matt. Cursing myself for being scatterbrained, I turned around and walked back home._

_As soon as I turned the key in the apartment door, I overheard loud noises from within._

_“You can’t marry him, Matt. He’s not good for you. He’s just a freeloading wanna-be-artist!”_

_“Shut the fuck up, Dominic. Enough already! I love Justin and there is nothing you can do nor say to change my mind.”_

_“What have this man done to you, huh, Matt? You used to call me everyday. Have Sunday brunch together. We even go out on vacation each time we can. Now… I’d be lucky if you remember to see me once a month!”_

_“Things have changed, Dominic. You have to accept that. Justin and I are trying to build a relationship, for Christ’s sake!”_

_“What about me? You’re gonna drop me just like that? You promised Matt, we’ll be together forever. You chose to be with that twink over your brother- - “_

_“ **Step brother** , Dominic.”_

_“Now…I’m **just** the step brother. Fuck you! I love you, Matt. I really do. I thought you feel the same.”_

_“I do, Dominic. We just can’t go on fooling each other. We have to move on with our lives. I love Justin, very much. And I’m marrying him.”_

_“Fine! Don’t expect your best man to show up on your wedding day...step brother.”_

_I felt my head was going to explode from what I overheard. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I knew it was not the right thing to do. My mother would have had a field day lecturing me about good manners and right conduct if she knew. But I believe I have the least right to listen, most especially when their main subject was **me**. Suddenly there were loud footsteps coming to the door. I did the first thing that came to my mind – **HIDE.**_

 

**Buzzer rings.**

I glanced at the clock - 6:35 in the evening. It’s got to be Daphne, I promised I’d join her for dinner tonight. Fuck, I’m not even dressed yet. I got up from the bed and strode out of the room.

**Buzzer rings.**

“Coming! Lay off the fucking buzzer, Daph,” I said as I opened the door. All at once, I felt my body froze and my hands started to shake.

“Hello, _gorgeous_. Nice to know your home,” Dominic said through gritted teeth.


	9. My Rock

  
Author's notes: **A/N:** Okay, this is the second to the last chapter. I know BJFic has not yet uploaded Chapter 8 and it kindda sucks. You can see the recent caps in my live journal if you want - www.livejournal.com/users/kayebee_12. This cap is a bit short, but I wanted to write something while the Muse is being nice to me. Thank you to all the people that followed this story. And to all those who took the time to leave very encouraging and nice reviews. My special thanks to those who personally emailed and left message They meant a lot to me. This is not beta'ed, so pardon the errors. - kaye ;o) 

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**Justin's POV**

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I knew it’s so stupid of me to ask that question. It’s obvious from the look on Dominic’s face that he has serious issues he would like to take up with me. He ignored my question and brusquely walked past me. I was left standing at the vestibule.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew you spelt trouble. I’ve always told Matt to shy away from the blondes. But my brother, always the trusting one, never listens,” he said out loud, his voice thick with sarcasm. 

I rolled my eyes at the acerbic remark and shut the door. Stepping into the living room I found him going through Matt’s CD collections. I swear my inside was seething with anger I could rip his head off that very instance. I swallowed hard to dismiss the evil thoughts trying to take form in me. “Why, Dominic? Why did you do it? I thought you loved him,” I said in my dogged voice. 

“I didn’t do anything, Justin. Whatever transpired between him and that Alex, it was out of my control,” he said defensively. Something in his face terrified me; no one has ever looked at me that way. 

“You were the one who asked that fucker to ...what was it?” I trailed off. “ _Scare him off or something?_ Don’t you go washing your hands now. What the fuck were you thinking, Dominic? Matt’s a grown up man. He had decided what was best for him. And if you truly cared for him, you would have respected that decision,” I said indignantly.

“Shut the fuck up! You don’t know a thing between me and Matthew. You were just a little lost pussy that Matt took pity on. You have no right to talk to me that way,” he bellowed as he grabbed my arms and shoved me hard against the wall.

“Fuck,” I grimaced in pain as my head slammed to the solid wall. I felt woozy all at once. I looked back at Dominic and saw him frantically pacing the room, muttering incoherent words. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and fixated his steely gaze at me. 

I knew right away that Dominic was not in his sane mind. That if I don’t get away from him, fast, I just might end up in tomorrow’s headline. Panic was so close to overwhelming me. I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves but my heart was flopping around in my chest like a convulsive fish. I slowly pivoted and made my way out of the living room. I felt Dominic go after me. 

The wooden candlestick by the side table caught my attention and in one big leapt; I grabbed it and swung about face, hitting him hard across the face with the thing. Dominic winced in pain and dropped to his knees. 

I took this opportunity to escape. I ran off toward the kitchen, hoping to make it through the back door before he regains strength and catch up with me. With my hands trembling, I started unbolting the myriad of locks in the goddamn door. 

 

_“Justin, this is a safe neighborhood. I don’t think we’ll need that much in our door,” Matthew said, trying to stifle his laughter._

_“Matt, at times like these, we can never be complacent. It’s just few. Besides, I can not compromise our security,” I said, fastening the final screw in the latch._

 

‘Fuck fuck fuck!’ I cursed myself for the sick _irony_ of the situation. My hands were fumbling from trying to unlock the final deadbolt.

Out of nowhere, a fistful comes loose and connected to the side of my face. I lost my stance and as I went down, my elbow smashed into the tiled floor, tearing the skin. Dominic dragged me off and held me by the collar, hitting me countless times in the face before letting me go. I knew I was bleeding heavily as I tasted blood in my mouth. The punches numbed my face and I felt one of my eyes stuck shut. 

I mustered all my strength to prop myself up but I was not even halfway in regaining my balance when Dominic dispensed another hard kick to my rib cage and finally, to my face. I tumbled back down to the floor. And this time, I didn’t attempt to get up anymore. The pain was too much, I simply resigned myself to the worst that could happen. I brought my legs up to my chest and curled up in a ball. 

One. Two. Three seconds ticked by. No more kicks and punches came. Instead I heard voices. I could barely make up the noise, but I thought I heard something like ‘ _get the fuck off him_ ’. With only one good eye working, I looked up and through my bloodshot eye, I saw two men. The other one was kicking whoever’s on top of me. I didn’t know if my mind was just playing tricks on me, but I swear, there was another man in the room. My body was too numb to process what was going on, but, I was fervently hoping and praying that whoever was that third person in the room – he is on **my** side. 

I shut my eyes closed and continued to lie in the cold, blood soaked floor. I noticed the loud noises slowly dwindled. Until there was complete silence. _Does this mean …I’m dead already?_

 

“Don’t move, Justin.” I winced out in pain when a hand touched my face. “It’s alright, Sunshine. Help is on the way. Everything will be fine.”

I opened my eye that works and saw Brian kneeling next to me. I tried to talk but nothing came out except a croak. I lifted my head anxiously, trying to look around.

“I said, lie still, for fuck’s sake,” Brian admonished me. “You could have broken your rib or something.” He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. His palm was sweaty. And that usually only meant one thing – he’s scared. I thought I saw a single tear dropped from his eye. And suddenly I can barely see at all because my good eye is filled with tears, as well. 

“Domshshh…” The words came out muffled. I wanted to ask about Dominic, but that was all I managed to say. Brian must have understood what I meant because I saw him nod his head.

“Let’s not talk about the son of a bitch, okay? But I hope it’ll make you feel better to know that he’s in the place where he _rightfully_ belongs,” Brian said, smiling. “Now try to relax. The ambulance is on its way. We’re gonna get you to the hospital and get you fixed up,” he added, his voice cracking a little.

I must have really looked bad. In spite of Brian’s smile, I could tell he looked terribly worried. I swallowed real hard to drown the lump collected in my throat. He looked so scared and I wish I could talk. I wish I could tell him not to worry. That everything will be alright. I hurt all over, but I’m _still_ here. And I’m not going anywhere. 

My gaze fell at our hands clasped together and all at once it sent great fuzzy warmth to my heart. I know I’m not supposed to move or something but at that point, I didn’t give a flying fuck anymore. With all my reserved strength, I brought our entwined hands close to my chest. Brian gave me a tentative look, and I thought he would censure me again. But he didn’t say anything. He just gave me that smile that said, ‘ _it’s okay_ ’. I hold onto his hand and clutched it against my heart a little tighter then slowly, I brought it up to my mouth and planted a kiss on it.

 

====0====

 

I woke up and found myself in the hospital. My whole body ached, especially my head. I saw my Mom sitting next to my bed. She looked tired, but she gave her best smile when she saw me awake. 

“Justin, sweetie,” she got up and kissed me in the forehead. 

“Hi mom,” I said. My voice was terribly hoarse and my throat felt it’s been scraped raw. But despite that, I felt relieved I was able to get the words out of my mouth correctly this time.

“Are you hungry? Do you want anything, honey?” she asked, pushing the hair off my forehead.

I shook my head to tell her no. In slow motion, I turned my head to look around the small room. My mother must have recognized what I was trying to find out for myself but was too shy and afraid to ask.

“He’s outside. Do you want me to get him?” she asked tenderly.

I nodded and managed a feeble grin. She smiled at me one last time before she slipped out of the bed and took off. 

I stared idly at the ceiling and tried to recollect the last time I was lying like this in a hospital bed. The bashing. Five years ago. And here I am, yet again. I wonder what the impairment would be this time. 

“Hey,” Brian’s voice broke my trip down the memory lane.

“Hey,” I said, smiling at him.

He sauntered towards me reciting an excerpt from a Creed I vaguely remember. “ _He descended to the dead and on the third day, he rose again…”_

“Was I gone that long?” I asked, moving a little to give him space in the bed.

He just smiled then sat beside me, his eyes lingering on the bruises and cuts in my forearm. “Feeling better?” 

“Well, let me see. My left eye is terribly sore and it feels like it’s gonna pop out anytime. And my head feels as if someone’s squeezing it like a fucking tube of toothpaste. Did I mention that my left eye hurts so fucking bad? Can we ask someone to give me a morphine drip or something?” I asked, smirking.

“Maybe, if you behave nicely, little boy,” he teased, tapping me on the head.

I pursed my lips and craned my head to the side to see him better. I shut close and opened my eyes a few times to will the blur away. “Tell me,” I said firmly, trying my darndest to focus a single eye on him.

He fell silent for a moment and took my right hand. He appeared to be inspecting my bruised fingers. But I know Brian like the palm of my hand and I know he was just buying some time to stall the imminent.

“Tell me, Brian,” I said it again.

He cleared his throat before he finally uttered it. “Your eye _maybe_ permanently damaged, Justin. They are waiting for the swelling around it to go down to see if they need to do surgery or not,” Brian stated as-matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” I said as I reached up to feel the bandage plastered across my left eye. I let out a heavy sigh. “So that’s the **catch** this time,” I said squarely.

Brian leaned closer, and whispered to my ear. “Cut it out, princess. I swear if you start giving me that I’m-such-a-pitiful-case attitude, I’m gonna kill you,” he intoned. No flowery, saccharine-filled words of comfort. 

“It just sucks, you know. It sucks to be in this uncomfortable bed. It sucks that I’ll be missing work again. It sucks that I might even need to learn _Braille_ anytime soon –“

“Fuck, Justin! You’re not gonna go blind. You are gonna get better.”

“Yeah right, the next thing I know you’re going to tell me you are the Messiah from Nazareth. The **One** who can heal the deaf and the blind,” I shot back.

He let out an exasperated sigh and did not argue with me any further. He simply put his arm around me and pulled me closer to him. I snuggled next to him and burrowed my head to his chest. Soon the tears started falling.

There are times I just love Brian so much I think my heart just can’t stand it – it would burst. And this may be one of those times. _He does know how to treat me right when I’m being difficult._

Yes, Brian may have shit on me a hundred times and have royally pissed me like nobody ever did. But today, right this nanosecond... **he is my Rock.**


	10. This thing called LOVE

  
Author's notes: Okay, I know I said this would be the last chapter. Nah, I don't think so. I think there is more coming. I just could not put everything all together in this chap. I tried, didn't work. This is for Britt for creating my LJ banner and to Mari for the nice reviews she unselfishly give. And to all the people that waited this long for the long overdue update, thank you so much. - kaye ;o)

* * *

* * *

**Brian’s POV**

Justin’s condition continued to progress after staying in the confines of the hospital for several days. There were still angry marks of bruises and cuts all over his face and body, but he said they don’t hurt as much anymore. The swollen eye had subsided, as well. All that’s left now was some purplish colored contusion around it. The family took turns in staying with Justin in the hospital. They came bearing presents, food and flowers. The typical things one is expected to bring when visiting a confined patient. Debbie never missed a single day in paying her dear Sunshine a stopover in between her shifts at the Diner. And fuck me if she’d ever stop bringing Justin pan after pan of stews and casseroles - from tuna to chicken to beef. I was afraid she’d soon run out of recipe and show up one day with some goat or ostrich delight. Justin’s voracious appetite had not been resuscitated yet, hence, the happy beneficiaries of Debbie’s home-made cooking were the nurses and hospital orderlies. 

The day when Justin was supposed to be released, he tripped on his way to the bathroom to change his clothes. I could not help but laughed so hard at seeing his lithe body sprawled all over the white vinyl floor. I was still chuckling as I helped him get up and quickly admonished him saying that that’s what insolent, bratty boys get for refusing help from able people. He shot me a death glare and went on to blame his affected eye for the fall. Justin then nonchalantly complained of seeing light flashes and floaters below the corner of his left eye. And he said that made him dizzy. One look at him told me that symptoms like these can’t be ignored. Immediately, I asked his ophthalmologist to run some tests on him to find out what’s causing this.

The next day, the doctor came to me and Jennifer to talk about Justin’s test results. He removed his hideous eyeglasses and looked at Jen intently. Then he proceeded to inform her about Justin being diagnosed with _Retinal Tear_. Doc then stressed that an immediate treatment was necessary. As soon as Jennifer heard this, she almost lost her balance. I was so fucking pissed at the eye doctor, I wanted to back him up in a corner and tell him, _‘Come on, can’t you not break it to a mother, gently?’_ I mean, fuck, I know I’m not an advocate myself for delivering some pretty nasty news in a syrupy, charming way – but, at that moment, I felt Jennifer have had so much in her plate already, the poor woman needed some respite.

After some serious bouts of comfort and assurance, I have managed to persuade Jen to go with Debbie and Mikey to the cafeteria to get something to eat or drink. Then I marched on to the fucking doctor’s office to learn more about this fucking Retinal Tear. I have to admit, I was shit worried, _too._

After a generous serving of some technical blah blah from the ophthalmologist, I soon found out that what Justin had was not serious. _At all._ Apparently, this eye problem occurs when some goddamn gel collapses and pulls away and tear from the retina. In Justin’s case, the eye trauma due to the hard blows caused it. And that, get this, a simple laser zap to the eye to seal the torn retina was the only thing needed to help prevent it from blowing into a more serious case like Retinal Detachment. After realizing how uncomplicated and trouble-free the procedure would be, I doubled over so loud; the whole fucking floor felt the intensity of it. Well, between a fit of an all out belly laughter and strangling the goddamned stupid doctor for putting us all in the edge of our seats – the _former_ was the better option that day.

The laser treatment was carried out the next day. It was quick and Justin said that it wasn’t even painful. His left eye was covered with bandage afterwards to prevent Justin from directly scratching his eye should some irritation come about. He was further advised that it may take several weeks for the light flashes and floaters to be fully eliminated. He was also given this eye drop to help speed up his eye’s recovery.

That same day, Justin was given the green light to go home.

**_Home._ **

I felt Justin flinched at the mere mention of the word. I slowly reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The doctor saw this gesture and gave us both a warm smile. After signing Justin’s release papers, the doctor turned to me and looked me straight in the eyes. He placed a hand in my shoulder and kindly said, “You’re a _good_ man, Mr. Kinney. Justin is very lucky to have you. Now bring _your_ partner home for some precious time alone, I know hospitals don’t give that much privacy.” With that said, he pivoted to his heel and went on to do his rounds.

I stole a quick glance at Justin and saw him shaking his head and grinning from ear to ear. He caught my gaze and was about to say something, but I cut him off.

“Hey, before you say anything,” I put a hand over his mouth. “You heard what the doctor said. I’m the good man in here. And," I stressed the word, "I was given direct and clear instructions to take you home so we can enjoy a much needed privacy.”

Justin’s jaw almost hit the floor with my declaration. It felt as if an hour passed by before he was able to say something.

“Brian, thank you,” he said then pursed his lips and looked upward as if trying to recall a speech he especially wrote for this dramatic episode. I nodded my head and pressed my lips together to let him know I was not about to interject any snarky remark and that I was ready to …listen. 

But no profession of undying love and _take-me-I'm-yours_ were mentioned. None of those bullshits were offered. Instead, what Justin said really surprised me and totally cut me to the core. ”Thank you for everything, Brian, really. I know mere words aren't enough to express this...this big big gratitude in my heart. You saved my life. Yet, _again_. I also want you to know that I have forgiven you already, Brian. So, you are not obligated in any way to treat me nicely. I hope the good deeds more than made up for all the guilt feelings.”

“Justin,” I said his name quietly, and though there was some reproach in it, still more was there indescribable tenderness. He knew I did everything for him not because I wanted to fucking return some favor or to ease any goddamned guilty feelings. Fuck, he knew I was so open. So fucking open right now. And vulnerable. I saw Justin avoided my gaze. He turned his attention to the jacket he was wearing. As if examining the color of thread used to stitch the hemlines. Or maybe, maybe he was thinking of a good exit line. 

“Brian, look, all I’m saying is that you don’t owe me anything,” Justin began miserably. 

“Justin, please don’t start. You know, you could have fucking stopped at your opening statement. I would have been happy with it,” I said bitterly. “You didn’t have to hit me so low to make me feel like my fucking mother. I don’t need to resort to some shitty indulgence for my salvation, Justin.” 

I know I scored a homerun when I said it. Justin’s face turned five shades of red from utter embarrassment. He appeared as if he was about to cry. For a moment he looked as if he could scarcely process even his own name. Christ, why does it have to be this difficult? I let out a deep breath and in my somber voice, I said, “You don’t trust me. Fine. You think I’m doing this for myself. Fine. You don’t want any help from me. Fine, Justin.” I turned around to walk away. I fished for my celphone and started to punch some numbers.

“Brian! Where are you going?” Justin called out.

Without looking back, I replied, “Wait there. I’m gonna call your mother or Debbie or maybe even fucking Theodore. You need somebody to bring you home.”

My strides were heavy. And I felt my chest was laden with tons of bricks. Suddenly, some lines I have read in one of Mikey’s comic books a few years back came to me. The title of the stupid comic book has already escaped my memory, but I will always remember what some lady character on it said about this thing called _Love_. Fuck, this is a classic example of Life imitating Art.

_Have you ever been in love?_  
Horrible isn't it?  
It makes you so vulnerable.  
It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.  
You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you,   
then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person,   
wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you.  
They didn't ask for it.  
They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you,   
and then your life isn't your own anymore.  
Love takes hostages.  
It gets inside you.  
It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness,   
so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart.  
It hurts.  
Not just in the imagination.  
Not just in the mind.  
It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.  
Nothing should be able to do that.  
Especially not love. 

* * *

**Excerpts from Neil Gaiman’s, The Sandman - Volumes 9 & 65**


	11. Chapter 11

Finally! Whew! Okay, there's gonna be one last chapter after this. I promise! I'd like to thank Britt for encouraging me to stop procrastinating and get back to writing (smut and all). Wuv ya, Britt! This one is not beta'ed, but I guess, it's passable. LOL! Enjoy! - Kaye :0)

* * *

 

Following the unpleasant incident at the hospital, Brian decided to spend the next few days de-escalating. The series of unfortunate events that took place has started to take its toll on him; dampening his spirit and will to win Justin’s trust and confidence back. To him, the blonde’s deliberate and blatant ways of misjudging his intentions, ruling each and every ministration as an Act of Contrition has gone overboard. At one point, he’s stopped caring if Justin ever believed him or not.

“No more, Mr. Nice Guy”, he hissed under his breath as he buttoned down his black body hugging cut-off shirt. Tonight, he’s hitting Babylon, totally decided to sever his self-inflicted misery and abate whatever bristle of expectation he has for him and Justin.

He took one last look of himself in his full length mirror, strolled into the kitchen, grabbed his keys by the breakfast island and switched off the lights; leaving a solitary wall lamp turned on. As he opened the loft door he was instantly apprehended by the presence of a familiar figure that was sitting, Indian-style, in the far left corner of the hallway. A small smile crept across Brian’s face. _‘And speaking of the little blonde devil’_ , he thought to himself, feeling both surprised and amused

“Hey,” Justin quickly said upon seeing him. He picked himself up from the cold cement and walked towards Brian. Justin knew by the smirk on his face that he was being sized-up. He took a quick glance at his wardrobe ensemble: grey over-sized sweat shirt over baggy khaki-colored pants. Before the other man had the chance to allege the imminent, Justin held out the palms of his hand as if backing the world off. “Don’t say it. I know - I look like shit.”

The humble admission was quickly rewarded with a smile, albeit a sardonic one. “How long have you been lurking outside my door?” asked Brian. “And… yes, you do look like shit.”

“Thanks for not saying anything,” Justin shot back, barely looking as he dust his pants off. “I’ve been here for like, one... two hours, maybe,” he added lamely.

“And not once did you think of knock-knocking?” Brian further inquired.

“Um, no. I was actually waiting for you to come out and find me,” Justin replied nonchalantly, offering a feeble smile.

“Interesting. But …what if I wasn’t here? Or, say, I was busy with some … _guests_ ,” Brian said, deliberately putting the stress on the last word.

“Um…I know you’re inside. And not fucking any… _guest_.” Justin said it as if articulating a scientific fact, undeniable proof that he was right.

“Uh-huh. You seem very sure of that declaration, Mr. Taylor,” Brian said with his brows now furrowed.

Justin laughed. “Brian, you would never, ever allow any guest, much less, a trick, to stay in and expend your precious Saturday night watching your James Dean’s collections.”

“What, you’re back to stalking me?” Brian retorted. The assumption of familiarity both delighted and annoyed him.

“Hmn…I wouldn’t say that. And what are you so upset about? Come on, that’s not even, classified information.” No accusation there, just a statement of fact.

Brian considered his options to refute; but ultimately resolved to let go of the case. “Okay. Fine,” he said, deflated. “But, lest you forget,” he began, then paused as if debating whether to continue or not, ”a certain twat was able to convince me to stay home a few too many Saturday nights to watch his all time favourite, Yellow Submarine.”

A wrinkled smile, utterly endearing, rippled across Justin’s face. “Oh, I believe he remembers. You and he have managed to memorize the dialogues by heart.”

And, as if on cue, Brian moved two steps back, adjusted his stance a little and mimicked the great Ringo Starr. _“Hey, I wonder what’ll happen if I pull this lever?”_

Justin, now on full-amused mode decided to join into the characterization. _“Oh, you mustn’t do that now_ ,” he replied, folding his arms across his chest, posing as Old Fred.

_“Can’t help it_ ,” Brian quipped, _“’I’m a born ‘Liver-pooler’.”_ He spoke it with perfect British accent.

Fits of laughter soon followed. From the smug look in their faces, anyone could conjure that the act was a ‘good take’.

“I could swear that you still watch my tapes,” Justin chided him.

“You know what, it’s actually on in…,” Brian held out his bare wrist to his face as if checking the time,”…in exactly fifteen minutes. In fact I was just on my way out to go get the popcorn.”

Justin gave him a soft push then proceeded inside the loft. “You’re a freak.” He strolled into the living room, stopping at the centre, surveying the whole room as if it was his first time.

Brian closed the door and walked the few steps toward the liquor cart; he poured whiskey on two glasses and gallantly offered Justin his drink.

Tonight, without a doubt, the rules of their disengagement had to be temporarily suspended.

Both men plopped onto the sofa and consumed their drink in silence. Brian lolled his head on the back cushion, fixing a look on Justin’s face. His left arm stretched out along the back of the sofa, but didn’t quite reach the other man.

“So I see you’re heading some place special.” Justin said puckishly.

“Ding Ding Ding! Good guess, Taylor.” Brian raised his glass in mid air before bringing it to his mouth.

Justin ignored him and continued to drink in silence, feeling the alcohol burn in his mouth.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. I give concessions to some of my loyal and valued guests,” Brian said brimming with mirth.

“That’s so noble of you.” Justin said. His mouth was in a half-smirk, half-smile fashion that only he can pull off.

“I heard that Dominic guy finally confessed to the attack,” Brian broached the subject. “Who’d ever thought the psycho is madly in love with his brother.”

“Step brothers,” Justin corrected him. “They’re not even blood-related. Dominic was adopted by Matthew’s mother long before she met Matthew’s dad. It’s really a complicated story. And I don’t feel like talking about their family tree.”

Brian nodded at the revelation. “He’s hot, though. If he wasn’t such a crazy fag killer, I’d fuck him.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will, he’s an eye candy, alright.”

“Do you think those two ever fucked?” Brian asked. He turned to Justin and waited for any violent reaction.

“Brian, you’re the last person in Pittsburgh that I expect to ever ask that stupid question. It was an obvious crime of passion - screaming loudly, for fuck’s sake.” Justin eased his body and slid down the sofa; bringing his legs up to rest onto the coffee table.

“So tell me, Sunshine. Exactly how big was Matthew’s dick?” Brian was unrelenting. His face showed signs of mock interest.

Justin looked at him with the oddest dispassion. “Stop making fun of him, Brian. And please, quit bullying me,” he shot back.

“Okay, party poop,” Brian conceded. “I’m stopping.” He downed the last of his drink and was about to say something when Justin cut him off.

“Do you think maybe we can cut the chit chat and start fucking? Stories about dead people make my dick soft,” Justin said brazenly, his hands curtly falling to the side, slightly brushing to Brian’s knee.

Brian flinched at the sudden display of boldness. One thing was certain: though Justin had made the vague offer, it was completely up to Brian to seal the deal.

“Justin,” he said, eyes looking intently at the blonde.

“Look, just pretend I’m your trick for the night. You’d go out and bring someone with you tonight, anyway,” Justin offered, biting his bottom lip and gazing at Brian like a vulture getting ready to attack its prey.

“Are ... ugh ..are you sure you wanna do this?” Brian asked, amazed where the conversation has led them to.

The response was a hungry kiss from the other man; his mouth was hot and his tongue pushing its way past his lips. From the way Justin ravaged his mouth, Brian could tell that the need was urgent; the desire was palpable.

Brian slipped a hand inside Justin’s shirt, running it up his smooth chest to find one of his nipples. The blonde gasped as Brian gave it a soft pinch. He pressed against Justin and felt the growing hard-on through his pants.

In one swift motion, Brian pulled Justin’s shirt off, exposing his creamy skin. He ran his tongue into the hollow of his throat, nipping and tasting it. .Leaning over, he took one of Justin’s nipples between his teeth, biting gently on the firm round bud of flesh. Justin groaned in ecstasy, he placed his hand on the back of Brian’s head and arched his body against his face.

Moments later, both man fumbled with one another’s pants, anxious to get to the goodies inside like greedy kids sticking their hands into Christmas stockings. Soon, piles of clothes were scattered around like puddle of water.

As Brian touched the well known places on Justin’s body, he tried not to think about what he was doing. If he did, he knew he would put an end to it. He didn’t want this to happen; he didn’t want to be aroused by the sudden turn of events. _At least, not just yet._ But, as much as he knew that neither Justin nor he was ready for this sudden reunion, he simply could not bring himself to stop.

Brian then allowed his fingers to travel through the patch of blonde hair that shaded Justin’s cock. He ran his hands over the length of his shaft, making the blonde’s whole body spasm in anticipation. Justin’s cock was hot in his hand; he gripped it tightly around his fingers, feeling the heat pulsed beneath the thin skin.

“Shit…Brian…I’m gonna shoot if …if you keep that up,” Justin said in a hoarse whisper. His face was flushed and lips half-open, groaning at the exquisite pleasure taking over his body.

Brian clutched his body, almost lifting him off the sofa and softly whispered, “The bed.”

”No,” Justin hissed choking back another moan. “Fuck me. Here. Now.” Each word was punctuated in earnest.

“Justin,” Brian said, leaning over to talk into his ear, “the condom and lube are there.”

Breathlessly, Justin looked for his pants and once he saw it, he hurriedly reached out and seized it. With fumbling hands, he fished for the condom, tore it open using his mouth and handed it to Brian. “Put that on,” he ordered, “and fuck the lube!”

Almost immediately, Brian knew that Justin didn’t require a slow passionate fuck; that, tonight, a jagged, no-fuss sex was in order. He obediently slid the condom on his aching prick and positioned himself on top of Justin. He brought his fingers to his mouth and a moment later slipped them, wet with spit, into the cleft of the blonde’s tight hole. Justin’s ass muscles clamped greedily around his fingers, urging him deeper. Brian stuck a second finger inside and felt the other man drew in a sharp intake of breath. He continued to turn his fingers inside, loosening the tight muscle until it relaxed. Justin emitted short bursts of breath that grew more and more urgent

“Fuck…Brian…I want to come with you inside me.” Justin said impatiently.

“How badly do you want it, Justin?” Brian demanded as he continued to finger fuck him.

“Please, Brian, I need you inside me now. I don’t think I can hold it any longer,” he whined.

With no warning, Brian withdrew his fingers from Justin’s throbbing chute. He grabbed his legs, put them over his shoulders and pressed the tip of his cock against Justin’s hole. Pressing forward, he slid his cock in in one bold movement, pushing deeper.

“God…fuck, Brian. I ..missed …this,” Justin said in between moans.

The words sent electric current straight into Brian’s cock; he pounded Justin’s ass with abandon. Then he wrapped his free hand around Justin’s leaking member and began to beat it off in time with his thrusting.

“Fuck, Justin. Come for me. Fuck… this feels good,” Brian said it like a mantra. Justin’s hands reached back to grip his waist, trying to push him even further inside.

Sweat covered both of their bodies, slicking their skin like oil. The thrusting sped up. Together, they moved in synchronized, fluid motion.

Shortly, both men were overwhelmed with a wave of force that was clamouring for release. And together, they reached their shattering climax.

 

 

The moment of awkward silence that followed was like the opposite of a prayer. Justin slowly got up and padded to the bathroom; Brian lit another stick of cigarette.

“You don’t mind if I take a quick shower?” Justin called out from the bathroom.

Brian stubbed his half-smoked cigarette against the ashtray, got up and sashayed down the kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottled water; completely ignoring Justin’s query.

A mop of blonde hair peered out from the bathroom door. “Hey, didn’t you hear me? I asked if I could use your shower.”

The sound of a bottle cap twisted open was the only reply.

“Fuck! What’s wrong with you?” Justin asked. He reached for a towel, languidly wrapped it around his waist and walked the few steps to Brian.

“Go right ahead if you wanna take a fucking shower,” barked Brian. He looked at Justin with hurt eyes.

“Whoa, stop queening out. I just asked a simple question. I never realized that would set you off.” Justin placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Hey, I’m really sorry, okay?”

Brian stepped away from him. “Justin, you don’t have to act like a stranger around this house. You fucking lived your rebel years in here. So, if you wanna take a goddamn shower, you can dispense with the formality and just go the fuck right ahead,” Brian said flatly.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Justin said apologetically. He stood behind Brian for a few more seconds before he pivoted around and quickly made a beeline back to the bathroom.

Brian half-turned and followed the blonde’s trail until he was out of sight. “Well, you want to know what I think, Sunshine?” he piped in. “I think you did that that to hurt me.”

The sound of steady water gushing was the only response Brian has gotten from Justin; he decided to let it go.

Inside the shower’s glass encasement, Justin started to cry. At first, it was a silent cry; soon, he was sobbing into the drumming spray. But this time, he knew he was crying neither because of Brian hurting him nor of Matt dying on him. He was crying because, in the midst of all his anger and depression, he’s finally heard that voice. That voice inside him that was crying out and saying – _‘enough’._ Enough to all the complaining…the pointing of fingers….the struggling to hold on to something gone and lost. It’s as if a blanket of serenity and acceptance came over him. He turned on the water in full force, as hot as it got and the jets pummelled him. He didn’t turn the shower off until he was all wrinkled and red. When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he was fully clothed and all ready to go.

“So, any big plans tonight?” Brian was seated in front of his computer, face on the monitor, another glass of Beam on his right hand.

Justin grabbed his keys from the breakfast counter and dunked it inside his pocket. “Um, no plans. I’m thinking I’ll just stay home and learn how to cross stitch,” he said humorously. “So, I guess I’ll just see you next week at Michael’s,” he finally said, looking at Brian whose focus was still on the computer.

A synapse seemed to malfunction in Brian’s brain. Justin immediately saw the shadow of confusion on his face.

“Hunter’s graduation,” he said, hoping that was enough to refresh Brian’s memory. “Michael and Ben are throwing a party for him. You’re coming, right?”

“Oh, yeah. The firstborn’s high school graduation,” Brian said smiling. “Well, I’m so coming to the party, _dude_.”

Justin simply shook his head at him, waved a final goodbye and turned around to leave. His hand was almost to the loft’s door when he heard Brian called out his name.

“Justin.”

Justin, stopped dead in his tracks, and exhaled sharply; anticipating what was coming next.

“I know I always say that sorry is bullshit. But, I think, no… I feel, I feel that I owe you an explanation. About what happened. That night I - -”

“Hey,” Justin interjected, turning around to face him. “It’s okay. I understand it now, Brian. I really do. You don’t have to give me a valid excuse for what you did.”

“But I want to, Justin.” Brian said, sounding like he was imploring.

“Brian, listen to me,” Justin began tensely. “Whatever you have to say… they won’t change anything. In the many years I’ve known you, I’ve learned that life isn’t always fair; that we won’t always get what we think we deserve. I have come to accept that everything is not always about me.” Justin looked down and stared at his feet as if reading through the next few lines of his speech.

The pronouncements lingered heavily in air; Brian found it difficult to breathe. For a while he felt like a soldier stripped off his weapon. In his mind, a million and one things were lined up, waiting to be enunciated into words. But, he knew, tonight, they would just serve as grass to a dead horse.

“I’m sorry, Justin. I really am,” Brian finally said, swallowing the bile. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Justin moved closer to him, bridging the distance between them. His eyes were sad, but they reflected an intimation of tranquillity. “I know. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. Bad things happen even to the unsuspecting, good people. I understand now that you, me, everyone can inflict hurt and pain for no reason. Sometimes, we hurt another person, simply because we can.”

With that said Justin leant over and brushed a tender kiss across Brian’s cheek. “I have learned not to personalize things, anymore, Brian. Well, it’s just life happening.” He smiled one last time before letting himself out of the loft, leaving Brian alone in his thoughts.


End file.
